If Only
by Horton
Summary: What if Rookwood hadn't gotten Voldemort onto the right track? What if Voldemort really had kidnapped Sirius and taken him to the Department of Mysteries?
1. Sirius!

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Much of this text was copied directly from JK Rowling's Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. These passages are not mine, and I take no credit for them. 

Summary: 

What if Rookwood hadn't gotten Voldemort onto the right track? What if Voldemort really _had _kidnapped Sirius and taken him to the Department of Mysteries? Would the outcome of the Battle be the same? Or would Sirius still be alive?

**If Only**

**Chapter One: Sirius!**

They passed row eighty-four . . . eighty-five . . . Harry was listening for the slightest sound of movement, but Sirius might be gagged not, or else unconscious . . . _or_, said an unbidden voice inside his head, _he might already be dead_. . . . 

Just as Harry tried to tell himself that he would have felt it, he became aware of a soft, rhythmic sound. He raised his wand. It was ragged . . . and vaguely familiar. He would have recognized it if he hadn't been so terrified of loosing his godfather. . . .

"Ninety-seven!" whispered Hermione. 

The group peeked around the edge of the row. They could see something that was black and motionless on the floor . . . 

"SIRIUS!" he screamed. 

Harry felt himself running and heard Hermione, Ron, Luna, Ginny and Neville following him. But he hardly cared. Sirius wasn't moving . . . not at all . . . He reached the spot where his godfather lay. 

Sirius was curled on the ground, unbound. Harry's heart was beating so fast that he thought that it might burst out of his chest. He dropped to his knees. He could hear footsteps around him and heard Hermione say, "Neville, Luna, Ginny keep a lookout! _He_ could be anywhere. . . ." 

Sirius' face was bloodstained and white. He had a bleeding cut above his brow and blood was dripping from the corner of his mouth. His wand arm was at a wrong angle and his left leg seemed to be crumpled. When Harry touched his shoulder, he could feel him shaking. 

"Sirius," he breathed. "Please, Sirius . . . wake up!" 

His godfather twitched. At least he was alive . . . he shook Sirius' shoulder and got a moan in response. Harry repeated Sirius' name over and over again. 

"Is that Sirius Black?" asked Neville. "Didn't he murder thirteen people?"

"Yes," said Harry distractedly, slapping Sirius' face lightly. "But no, he never killed anyone. He was framed. I found out in our third year."

"How is he?" asked Ginny over her shoulder. 

As though to answer her question, Sirius coughed and dark liquid spilled from his mouth. Harry gulped.

"Harry," Hermione whimpered. "Hurry, please . . ."

"I'm trying," said Harry, feeling too weak with worry to be irritated.

"Harry?" said Ron; his voice was shaking. "Harry, I really think you should look at this . . ." 

Harry stood up slowly; Ron was staring at one of the dusty glass spheres on the shelves. 

"What?" said Harry, his voice unsteady. He looked down at Sirius, who lay at his feet. 

"It's-it's got your name on," said Ron. 

Harry moved a little closer. Ron was pointing at one of the small glass spheres that glowed with a dull inner light, though it was very dusty and appeared not to have been touched for many years. 

"My name?" said Harry blankly. He really wanted to get back to Sirius. He couldn't think very well until he knew that he was all right, or at least conscious. 

He stepped forward. Not as tall as Ron, he head to crane his neck to read the yellowish label affixed to the shelf right beneath the dusty glass ball. In spidery writing was written a date of some sixteen years previously, and below that: 

S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D

Dark Lord

and (?) Harry Potter 

Harry stared at it, thoughts of Sirius fading from his mind ever so slightly. 

"What is it?" asked Ron, sounding unnerved. "What's your name doing down here?"

He glanced along at the other labels on that stretch of shelf. 

"I'm not here," he said, sounding perplexed. "None of the rest of us are here. . . ." 

"Harry, I don't think you should touch it," said Hermione sharply, as he stretched his out his hand. 

"Why not?" he said. "It's something to do with me, isn't it?" 

"Don't, Harry," said Neville suddenly. Harry looked around at him. Neville's round face was shining slightly with sweat. He looked as though he could not take much more suspense. 

"It's got my name on," said Harry. 

And feeling slightly reckless, he closed his fingers around the dusty ball's surface. He had expected it to feel cold, but it did not. On the contrary, it felt as though it had been lying in the sun for hours, as though the glow of light within was warming it. He lifted the glass ball down and stared at. Nothing whatsoever happened. The others moved in closer around Harry, gazing at the orb as he brushed it free of clogging dust. 

"Harry," said Hermione, as though coming to her senses. "Harry-Sirius!"

Harry jumped and looked down at his godfather. He attempted to put the sphere back on the shelf, but it just flew back into his hand. Confused, Harry just held it back to his chest and dropped to his knees, the others resuming their positions, giving each other meaningful glances. Harry felt guilty. Sirius was lying here unconscious and wounded and he was inspecting a little ball.

"Sirius," he said, weakly, his voice cracking. "Sirius, it's me, Harry . . . Padfoot, please . . ." 

Sirius opened his eyes at long last. He coughed again. His eyes were glassy and pained. When he gazed up Harry, he appeared not to recognize him. 

"Harry?"

"Yeah," Harry breathed. He gulped back a wave of emotion that threatened to overcome him. "I'm here, Sirius. I've come to save you!"

"No!" Sirius coughed hoarsely, his voice barely above a whisper. "You have to get out of here! He's figured out about what you-" his eyes fell upon the sphere clutched to Harry's chest. "Harry . . ." he moaned. "You . . . no . . ." 

Hermione shrieked. 

Sirius looked toward the end of row, craning his head, with difficulty, in the direction that Hermione was gazing, horror stuck. Harry automatically leaned over to protect him. He raised his wand high and felt pain shoot up through is scar as he looked into the face of Lucius Malfoy, a troop of a dozen Death Eaters in his wake. He was smiling. 

"Very good, Potter," he said, "Now stand up, nice and slowly, and give that to me." 

Black shapes were emerging out of thin air all around them, blocking their way left and right; eyes glinted through slits in hoods, a dozen lit wand tips were pointing directly at their hearts. Ginny gave a gasp of horror. 

"To me, Potter," repeated the drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy as he held out his hand, palm up.

Harry's insides plummeted sickeningly. They were trapped and outnumbered almost two to one. 

"To me," said Malfoy yet again. 

"Let Sirius go. . . ." said Harry, almost helplessly from the floor. 

Sirius growled slightly, very much like a dog, but he couldn't turn into one as the Death Eaters still had their wands on him. Several of the Death Eaters laughed. A harsh female voice from the midst of the shadow figures to Harry's left said triumphantly, "The Dark Lord always knows!"

"Always," echoed Malfoy softly. "Now, give me the prophecy, Potter." 

"Let Sirius and my friends go!".

"_Let Sirius and my friends go!_" mimicked the woman to his left. She and her fellow Death Eater had closed in so that they were mere feet away from Harry and the others, the light from their wands dazzling Harry's eyes. 

Harry felt Ron stir beside him. 

"Don't do anything," he muttered. "Not yet-" 

The woman who had mimicked him let out a raucous scream of laughter. 

"You hear him? You hear him? Giving instructions to the other children as though he thinks of fighting us!" 

"Oh, you don't know Potter as I do, Bellatrix," said Malfoy softly. "He has a great weakness of heroics; the Dark Lord understands this about him. _Now give me the_ _prophecy, Potter_." 

"No!" cried Harry, desperate to find a way to get away. 

More of the Death Eaters laughed, though the woman still laughed the loudest of all. 

"Very funny, Potter." said Malfoy. "Now give me the prophecy, or we start using wands." 

"Go on, then," said Harry, raising his own wand to chest height. As he did so, the five wands of Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny and Luna rose on either side of him. The knot in Harry's stomach tightened. If they lost this, he will have led his friends to save Sirius for nothing. . . . 

But the Death Eaters did not strike. 

"Hand over the prophecy and no one need get hurt," said Malfoy coolly. 

It was Harry's turn to laugh. He felt Sirius look at him. 

"Yeah, right!" he said. "I give you this-prophecy, is it? And you'll just let us skip off home, will you?" 

The words were hardly out of his mouth when the female Death Eater shrieked, "_Accio Proph-_"

Harry was just ready for her. Sirius tensed and tried to do something, but he shouted, "_Protego!_" before she had finished her spell, and though the glass sphere slipped to the tips of his fingers, he managed to cling to it. 

"Oh, he knows how to play, little bitty baby Potter," she said, her mad eyes staring through the slits in her hood. "Very well, then-"

"I TOLD YOU, NO!" Lucius Malfoy roared at the woman. "If you smash it-!"

Harry's mind was racing. The Death Eaters wanted this dusty spun-glass sphere. He had no interest in it; he just wanted to get them all out of this alive. 

"Harry . . ." breathed Sirius tugging at his shirt. Harry leaned closer. "Don't give it to them, you don't understand how important-"

He was cut off as the woman stepped forward, away from her fellows, and pulled off her hood. Azkaban had hollowed out Bellatrix Lestrange's face, making it gaunt and skull-like, but it was alive with a feverish, fanatical glow. 

"You need more persuasion?" she said, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Harry felt Sirius tense further at his side. "Very well-take Black," she ordered the Death Eaters beside her. "Let him watch while we torture his godfather. I'll do it."

Harry felt the others close in around Sirius. It struck him as true loyalty from Luna and Neville, because it was his word alone that was proof of Sirius' innocence. He stood up quickly so that he was right in front of him, the prophecy held up to his chest. 

"You'll have to smash this if you want to attack any of us," he told Bellatrix. "I don't think your boss will be two pleased if you come back without it, will he?" 

She did not move; she merely stared at him, the tip of her tongue moistening her thin mouth. 

"So," said Harry, "what kind of prophecy are we talking about anyway?"

Sirius looked at him. Harry could feel his head turning against his leg. He could not think what to do but to keep talking. Neville's arm pressed against his, and he could feel him shaking. He could feel one of the other's quickened breaths on the back of his head. He was hoping that they were all thinking hard about ways to get out of this, because his mind was blank. 

"What kind of prophecy?" repeated Bellatrix, the grin fading from her face. "You jest, Harry Potter."

"Nope, not jesting," said Harry, his eyes flickering from Death Eater to Death Eater, looking for a weak link, a space through which they could escape. "How come Voldemort wants it?" 

"Several of the Death Eaters let out low hisses. 

"You dare speak his name?" whispered Bellatrix. 

"Yeah," said Harry, maintaining a tight grip on the glass ball, expecting another attempt to bewitch it from him. "Yeah, I've no problem saying Vol-"

"Shut your mouth!" Bellatrix shrieked. "You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips, you dare besmirch it with your half-blood's tongue, you dare-"

"Did you know he's a half-blood too?" asked Harry recklessly. Hermione and Sirius gave little moans, Hermione's in his ear. "Voldemort? Yeah, his mother was a witch and his dad was a Muggle-or has he been telling you lot he's pureblood?"

"_STUPEF_-"

"_NO!_"

A jet of red light had shot from the end of Bellatrix Lestrange's wand, but Malfoy had deflected it. His spell caused hers to hit the shelf a foot to the left of Harry and several of the glass orbs there shattered. 

Two figures, pearly white as ghosts, fluid as smoke, unfurled themselves from the fragments of broken glass upon the floor and each began to speak. Their voices vied with each other, so that only fragments of what they were saying could be heard over Malfoy and Bellatix's shouts. 

". . . _at the Solstice will come a new_ . . ." said the figure of an old bearded man. Sirius watched him in aw, transfixed.

"DO NOT ATTACK! WE NEED THE PROPHECY!"

"He dared-he dares-" shrieked Bellatrix incoherently. "-He stands there-filthy half-blood-"

"WAIT UNTIL WE'VE GOT THE PROPHECY!" bawled Malfoy. 

". . . _and none will come after_ . . ." said the figure of a young woman. 

The two figures that had burst from the shattered spheres had melted into thin air. Nothing remained of them or their erstwhile homes but fragments of glass upon the floor. They had, however, given Harry an idea. The problem was conveying it to the others.

"You've haven't told me what's so special about this prophecy I'm supposed to be handing over" he said, playing for time. He felt Sirius rustle at his feet. He moved his foot slowly sideways, feeling around for someone else's, knowing that Sirius was watching him out of the corner of his eye. 

"Do not play games with us, Potter," said Malfoy.

"I'm not playing games," said Harry, half his mind on the conversation, half on his wandering foot. And then he found someone's toes and pressed down upon them. A sharp intake of breath behind him told him that they were Hermione's.

"What?" she whispered. 

"Dumbledore never told you that the reason you bear that scar was hidden in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries?" asked Malfoy sneeringly. 

"I-what?" said Harry, and for a moment he quite forgot his plan. "What about my scar?"

"What?" whispered Hermione more urgently behind him. 

Sirius growled again. 

"Shut up, Black!" said Malfoy. "Can this be?" he sounded maliciously delighted; some of the Death Eaters were laughing again, and under cover of their laughter, Harry hissed to Hermione, moving his lips as little as possible, "Smash shelves-"

"Dumbledore never told you?" Malfoy repeated. "Well, this explains why you didn't come earlier, Potter, the Dark Lord wondered why-"

"-when I say go-"

"-you didn't come running when he showed you the place where it was hidden in your dreams. He thought natural curiosity would make you want to hear the exact wording. . . ."

"Did he?" said Harry. Behind him he felt rather than heard Hermione passing is message to the others and he sought to keep talking, to distract the Death Eaters. "So he wanted me to come and get it, did he? Why?"

"Why?" Malfoy sounded incredulously delighted. "Because the only people who are permitted to retrieve a prophecy from the Department of Mysteries, Potter, are those about whom it was made, as the Dark Lord discovered only hours ago when he attempted to use others to steal it for him, including your godfather here."

Sirius shifted ever so slightly and Harry knew that he wanted nothing more than the chance to strangle Malfoy. 

"And why did he want to steal a prophecy about me?"

"About both of you, Potter, about both of you . . . Haven't you ever wondered why the Dark Lord tried to kill you as a baby?"

Harry stared into the slitted eyeholes through which Malfoy's gray eyes were gleaming. Was this prophecy the reason Harry's parents had died, the reason he carried his lightning-bolt scar? Was the answer to all of this clutched in his hand?

"Someone made a prophecy about Voldemort and me?" he said quietly, gazing at Lucius Malfoy, his fingers tightening over the warm glass sphere in his hand. It was hardly larger than a Snitch and still gritty with dust. "And he's made me come and get it for him? Why couldn't he come and get it himself?"

"Get it himself?" shrieked Bellatrix on a cackle of mad laughter. "The Dark Lord, walk into the Ministry of Magic, when they are so sweetly ignoring his return? The Dark Lord, reveal himself to the Aurors, when at the moment they are wasting their time on my dear cousin?"

She smiled nastily down at Sirius, who bared his teeth and gave a feeble attempt to rise, giving a faint yelp of pain as he fell back. 

"So he's got you doing his dirty work for him, has he?" said Harry, covering up the gale of laughter that had met Sirius' failed try at getting up. "Like he tried to get Sturgis to steal it-and Bode?"

Sirius looked up at him in obvious surprise. 

"Very good, Potter, very good . . . Looks like your godson has some brains, Black!" said Malfoy slowly. "But the Dark Lord knows you are not unintell-"

"NOW!" yelled Harry. 

Five different voices behind him bellowed "_REDUCTO_!" Five curses flew in different directions and the shelves opposite them exploded as they hit. The towering structure swayed as a hundred glass spheres burst apart, pearly-white figures unfurled into the air and floated there, their voices echoing from who knew what long-dead past amid the torrent of crashing glass and splintered wood now raining down upon the floor.

"RUN!" Harry yelled, and as the shelves swayed precariously and more glass spheres began to pour from above, he seized a handful of Sirius' robes, helped by Hermione and dragged him upward, one arm over his head as chunks of shelf and shards of glass thundered down upon them. A Death Eater lunged forward through the cloud of dust and Harry elbowed him hard in the masked face. Sirius made a grab for something. They were all yelling, there were cries of pain, thunderous crashes as the shelves collapsed upon them, weirdly echoing fragments of the Seers unleashed from their spheres-

Harry found the way ahead clear and saw Ron, Ginny and Luna sprint past him, their arms over their heads. Something heavy struck him on the side of the face but he merely ducked his head and sprinted onward, Sirius slung over his and Hermione's backs. A hand caught him by the shoulder; he heard Hermione shout "_Stupefy!_" and the hand released him at once. 

They were at the end of row ninety-seven; Harry turned right and began to sprint in earnest. He could hear footsteps right behind him, Hermione's voice urging Neville on, and Sirius' ragged breathing in his ear. The door through which they had come was ajar straight ahead, Harry could see the glittering light of the bell jar, he pelted though it, the prophecy still clutched tight and safe in his hand, waited for the others to hurtle over the threshold before slamming the door right behind them-

"_Colloportus!_" gasped Hermione and the door sealed itself with an odd squelching noise.

"Where-are the others?" gasped Harry. 

He had thought that Ron, Luna and Ginny had been ahead of them, that they would be waiting in this room, but there was nobody there. 

"They must have gone the wrong way!" whispered Hermione, terror in her face. 

Sirius had slid down the wall, clutching his leg with one arm, the right hanging oddly at his side. He swore. 

"Listen!" whispered Neville.

Footsteps and shouts echoed from behind the door they had just sealed. Harry put his ear close to the door to listen and heard Lucius Malfoy roar: "Leave Nott, _leave him, I_ _say_, the Dark Lord will not care for Nott's injuries as much as losing that prophecy-Jugson, come back here, we need to organize! We'll split into pairs and search, and don't forget, be gentle with Potter until we've got the prophecy, you can kill the others if necessary-Bellatrix, Rodolphus, you take the left, Crabbe, Rabastan, go right-Jugson, Dolohov, the door straight ahead-Macnair and Avery, through here-Rookwood, over there-Mulciber, come with me!"

"What do we do?" Hermione asked Harry and Sirius, trembling from head to foot. 

"We've got to get out this room!" gasped Sirius hoarsely, gritting his teeth in pain. "They know we're here!"

"What about the others?" asked Neville. 

Sirius looked at him and something flicked across his face too fast for Harry to read. The wounded man bit his lip. Hermione was watching him intensely. 

"We're going to have to go on," he said softly. "We can search for them, but they're likely all right. The Death Eaters are looking for you lot, not them. They have nothing of importance."

He looked down at his wounded leg, and using his left arm, pointed a Death Eater's stolen wand at it and muttered "_Ferula!" _ He then did the same to his arm. Bandages sprung up and around his leg, tying it to a splint. The same went for his shoulder and arm, only it was now strapped in sling. He put the wand in his right hand, looked up at them watching him and hissed, "Let's go!"

Harry heaved him to his feet and they ran, as quietly as they could, past the shimmering bell jar where the tiny egg was hatching and unhatching, toward the exit into the circular hallway at the far end of the room. They were the almost there when Harry heard something large and heavy collide with the door Hermione had charmed shut. 

"Stand aside!" said a rough voice. "_Alohomora_!" 

As the door flew open, Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Sirius dived under the desks. They could see the bottom of the two Death Eaters' robes drawing nearing, their feet moving rapidly. 

"They might've run straight through to the hall," said the rough voice. 

"Check under the desks," said another. 

Harry saw the knees of the Death Eaters bend. He poked his wand out from under the desk but before he could make a sound, he heard Sirius' voice cry, "_STUPEFY!_" 

A jet of red light hit the nearest Death Eater; he fell backward into a grandfather clock and knocked it over. The second Death Eater, however, had leapt aside to avoid Sirius' spell and now pointed his own wand at Hermione, who had crawled out from under the desk to get a better aim. 

"_Avada-_"

Sirius gave a yell of warning as Harry launched himself across the floor and grabbed the Death Eater around the knees, causing him to topple and his aim to go awry. Neville overturned his desk in his anxiety to help; pointing his wand wildly at the struggling pair he cried, "_EXPELLIARMUS_!" 

Both Harry's and the Death Eater's wands flew out of their hands and soared back toward the entrance to the Hall of Prophecy; both scrambled to their feet and charged after them, the death Eater in front and Harry hot on his heals, Neville bringing up the rear, plainly horrorstruck at what he had done. Sirius yelled something at Hermione, but none heard. 

"Get out of the way, Harry!" yelled Neville, clearly determined to repair the damage. 

Harry flung himself sideways as Neville took aim again and shouted, "_STUPEFY!_"

The jet of red light flew right over the Death Eater's shoulder and hit a glass-fronted cabinet on the wall full of variously shaped hourglasses. The cabinet fell to the floor and burst apart, glass flying everywhere, then sprang back up onto the wall, fully mended, then fell down again, and then shattered-

The Death Eater had snatched up his wand, which lay on the floor beside the glittering bell jar. Harry ducked down behind another desk as the man turned-his mask had slipped so that he could not see, he ripped it off with his free hand and shouted, "_STUP-_"

"_STUPEFY!_" screamed Hermione, who had just caught up with them, Sirius limping at her heals. The jet of red light hit the Death Eater in the middle of the chest; he froze, his arm still raised, his wand fell to the floor with a clatter and he collapsed backward toward the bell jar. Harry expected to hear a clunk, for the man to hit solid glass and slide off the jar onto the floor, but instead, his head sank through the surface of the bell jar as though it was nothing but a soap bubble and he came to rest sprawled on his back on the table, with his head lying inside the jar full of glittering wind. 

"_Accio Wand_!" cried Hermione. Harry's wand flew from the dark corner into her hand and she threw it to him. 

"Thanks," he said, "right, let's get out of-"

"Look out!" said Neville, horrified, staring at the Death Eater's head in the bell jar. Sirius had his wand raised and staring at the Death Eater too, his hand on Neville's shoulder. 

All three of them raised their wands again, but none of them struck. They were all gazing, openmouthed, appalled, at was happening to the man's head. 

It was shrinking very fast, growing balder and balder, the black hair and stubble retracting into his skull, his cheeks smooth, his skull round and covered with a peach-like fuzz. . . . 

A baby's head now sat grotesquely on top of the thick, muscled neck of the Death Eater as he struggled to get up again. But even as they watched, their mouths open, the head began to swell to its previous proportions again, thick black hair was sprouting from the pate and chin. . . . 

"It's time," said Hermione in an awestruck voice. "_Time_ . . ." 

The Death Eater shook his ugly head again, trying to clear it, but before he could pull himself together again, it had begun to shrink back to babyhood once more. . . . 

There was a shout from the room nearby, then a crash and a scream. 

"RON!" Harry yelled, turning quickly from the monstrous transformation taking place before them. Sirius was moving forward with the wand held high. "GINNY? LUNA-" 

"Harry," hissed Sirius. "Be quiet!"

"Harry!" Hermione screamed. "Sirius!"

The Death Eater had pulled his head out of the bell jar. His appearance was utterly bizarre, his tiny baby's head bawling loudly while thick arms flailed dangerously in all directions, narrowly missing Harry, who ducked. He raised his wand but to his amazement, Hermione seized his arm. 

"You can't hurt a baby!" 

There was no time to argue the point. Harry could hear more footsteps growing louder from the Hall of Prophecy they had just left and knew, too late, that ought not to have shouted and given away their position. Sirius swore again. 

"Come on!" he said, and leaving the ugly baby-headed Death Eater staggering behind them, they took off for the door that stood ajar at the other end of the room, leading back into the black hallway.

They had run halfway toward it when Harry saw through the open door two more Death Eaters running across the black room toward them. Veering left, he burst instead into a small, dark, cluttered office and slammed the door behind them. 

"_Collo_-" began Hermione, but before she could complete the spell the door had burst open again and the two Death Eaters had come hurtling inside. Both cried triumphantly and opened their mouths to utter an incantation but Sirius yelled, "_Stupefy!_" and one dropped to the ground.

The second Death Eater was quicker and deflected his curse. A moment later, Lucius Malfoy appeared in the doorway. 

"Well, well, well." he said. He had his wand pointing at Sirius. "Give me the prophecy, Potter." Something beyond recognition crossed Sirius as he looked at Malfoy. Something beyond pain, beyond anger. "Or your god-daddy gets it!"

Malfoy looked him in the eye and grinned slightly. Sirius snarled and stood up straighter. Something of that recognition had changed him somehow. Harry could still feel his shoulder shaking against his own, but he knew that some kind of pain and anger was coursing through Sirius' veins. 

"Harry, don't give it to them," said Sirius, more quickly than Malfoy could react. "No matter what they-"

"_Shut up!_" shouted Malfoy.

Harry could feel the hand clutching the little sphere shaking. He'd come all this way to save Sirius. Was he just going to let Malfoy end it all now? Just for a little glass spun ball?

"_Crucio!_"

Sirius collapsed and began to scream and convulse. The Death Eaters were laughing. Neville eyes widened in horror and Hermione's eyes began to fill with tears. Sirius's writhing, bloody and yelling form was at Harry's feet. He clutched the prophecy and dropped to his knees, unsure whether to touch him or not, knowing that there was nothing he could do to comfort his godfather. If he didn't give them the prophecy, Sirius would eventually be killed. _Don't give to them, no matter what they do_. That was what Sirius had meant to say to Harry before Malfoy had silenced him. _No matter what they do to me_. Harry intended with all his heart to obey his godfather, but if he did . . . he would loose him. . . .

"STOP!" he bellowed. "ALL RIGHT! _ALL RIGHT!_"

Malfoy's nostrils flared with excitement. He removed the curse and Hermione fell to her knees and turned Sirius over. He lay with his eyes closed, his chest moving rapidly up and down unevenly. Hermione had a hand on his forehead. Malfoy kept his wand on him and extended his hand. 

"Give it to me, Potter!" 

"NO!" screamed Sirius, his eyes flying open and he tried to sit up. "Harry! It's more important than you know-"

Malfoy shot a curse at Sirius but missed because Neville shot a Stunning Spell at him. It hit him full in face and he toppled over, out cold as his gray eyes. 

But the Death Eater started forward. He rose his wand, ready to deliver a deadly curse when Hermione cried, "_Silencio!_" and the Death Eater was silent, obviously angered by his dumbness. However, he sent a jet of fiery white light at Sirius. Harry's godfather deflected it.

"Good one, Si-" said Hermione, but the Death Eater made a sudden slashing movement with his wand from which flew a streak of what looked like purple flame. It passed right across Hermione's chest; she gave a tiny "oh!" as though of surprise and then crumpled onto the floor where she lay motionless. 

"HERMIONE!" yelled Sirius, Harry and Neville at the same time. 

Neville crawled rapidly toward her from under the desk, his wand held up in front of him. The Death Eater kicked his nose hard. Neville gave a howl of pain and recoiled, clutching his mouth and nose and snapped his wand. The Death Eater ripped off his mask and was pointing directly at Harry, who recognized the long, pale, twisted face from the _Daily Prophet_: Antonin Dolohov, the wizard who had murdered the Prewetts. 

Sirius, recognizing him too, roared, "_STUPEFY_!" 

And Dolohov keeled over backward and lay motionless. Harry's mind was spinning. _Don't let her be dead, don't let her be dead, it's my fault if she's dead. . . ._

Neville was already at her side, clutching her wrists and searching for a pulse. His nose was bleeding and it was clearly broken, but he didn't seem to care about it at the moment. 

"Is she-" Sirius began. 

"Dat's a pulse, Harry, I'b sure id is. . . ."

Such a powerful wave of relief swept through Harry that for a moment he felt light-headed. 

"Whaddid he do to her?"

"It's a curse," said Sirius weakly from a few feet away on the ground, turning awkwardly to look at them. "She's lucky Dolohov couldn't talk, or it would have been much worse." He glimpsed the horrified expressions on their faces and said quickly, "But I know that Pomfrey will be able to heal her up in no time!"

There was a short silence. Harry went to help him, pulling Sirius' good arm around his shoulders again. 

Sirius said, "We're not far from the exit. . . . We're right next to the Spinning Hall. . . . If we can just get you across it and . . . find the right door before any more Death Eater come . . . I'll bet you two can get Hermione up the corridor and into the lift. . . . Then you could find someone. . . . Raise the alarm . . ." 

"And whad are you going do do?" said Neville, mopping his bleeding nose with his sleeve and frowning at Sirius.

"I'm going to find the others," said Sirius. 

"Sirius, you're hurt-" Harry began. He set his jaw. "I'm not leaving you. Not for _any_thing!" 

"Well, I'b going do find dem wid you," said Neville firmly. 

"But Hermione-"

"We'll dake her wid us," said Neville resolutely. "I'll carry her-you two are bedder at fighding dem dan I ab-"

He stood up and seized one of Hermione's arms, glared at Harry, who hesitated, then darted out from under Sirius, grabbed the other and helped hoist Hermione's limp form over Neville's shoulders. Sirius was leaning against the wall. 

"Wait," said Harry, snatching up Hermione's wand from the floor and shoving it into Neville's hand, "you'd better take this. . . ."

Neville kicked aside the broken fragments of his own wand as they walked slowly toward the door. 

"My gran's going do kill be," he said thickly, blood spattering from his nose as he spoke, "dat was by dad's old wand. . . ."

Sirius shot him an odd, pained glance. Harry pulled Sirius arm around him once again and stuck his head out of the door, looking around cautiously. The baby-headed Death Eater was screaming and banging into things, toppling grandfather clocks and overturning desks, bawling and confused, while the class cabinet that Harry now suspected had contained Time-Turners continued to fall, shatter, and repair itself on the wall behind them. 

"He's never going to notice us," he whispered. "C'mon . . . keep close behind us, Neville. . . ."

They crept out of the office and back toward the door into the black hallway, which now seemed completely deserted. They walked a few steps forward, Neville tottering slightly due to Hermione's weight. The door of the Time Room swung shut behind them, and the walls began to rotate once more. Sirius swayed slightly, even though the ground wasn't moving. Harry put a hand on his chest, but he said that he was all right (which Harry doubted). With a sinking heart, Harry saw that Hermione's fiery crosses had faded from the doors. 

"So which way d'you reck-?"

But before they could make a decision as to which way to try, a door to their right sprang open and three people fell out of it. 

"Ron!" croaked Harry, dashing toward them, Neville heaving Hermione and Sirius hobbling after him. "Ginny-are you all-?"

"Harry," said Ron, giggling weakly, lurching forward, seizing the front of Harry's robes and gazing at him with unfocused eyes. "There you are. . . . Ha ha ha . . . You look funny, Harry. . . . You're all messed up. . . ."

Ron's face was very white and something dark was trickling from the corner of his mouth. Next moment, his knees had given way, but he still clutched the front of Harry's robes, so that Harry pulled into a kind of bow. 

"Ginny?" said Harry fearfully. "What happened?" 

But Ginny shook her head and slid down the wall into a sitting position, panting and holding her ankle. 

"I think her ankle's broken, I heard something crack," whispered Luna, who was bending over her and who alone seemed to be unhurt. "Four of them chased us into a dark room full of planets, it was a very odd place, and some of the time we were just floating in the dark-"

"Harry, we saw Uranus up close!" said Ron, still giggling feebly. "Get it, Harry? We saw Uranus-ha ha ha-"

A bubble of blood grew at the corner of Ron's mouth and burst. 

"Anyway, one of them grabbed Ginny's foot, I used the Reductor Curse and blew up Pluto in his face, but . . ."

Luna gestured hopelessly at Ginny, who was breathing in a very shallow way, her eyes still closed. Sirius was kneeling the best he could next to her, though it looked like it hurt him a lot. 

"And what about Ron?" said Harry fearfully, as Ron continued to giggle, still hanging off the front of Harry's robes. 

"I don't know what they hit him with," said Luna sadly, "but he's gone a bit funny, I could hardly get him along at all. . . ."

"Harry," said Ron, pulling Harry's ear down to his mouth and still giggling weakly, you know who this girl is, Harry? She's Loony . . . Loony Lovegood . . . ha ha ha . . ."

Sirius got up with difficulty and inspected Ron. His face went pale. 

"Will he be okay?" asked Ginny. 

"Yes," said Sirius. "But . . ." he swore. "With him in this state . . . this is going to be difficult. . . ." 

"We've got to get out of here," said Harry firmly. "Luna, can you help Ginny?"

"Yes," said Luna, sticking her wand behind her ear for safekeeping, and putting an arm around Ginny's waist and pulling her up. 

"It's only my ankle, I can do it myself!" said Ginny impatiently, but next moment she had collapsed sideways and grabbed Luna for support. Harry pulled Ron's arm over his shoulder like he had done for Sirius. He looked around: They had a one-in-twelve chance of getting the exit right he first time-

He heaved Ron toward a door; they were within a few feet of it when another door across the hall burst open and three Death Eaters spend into the hall, led by Bellatrix Lestrange. 

"_There they are!_" she shrieked. 

Stunning Spells shot across the room: Harry smashed his way through the door ahead, flung Ron unceremoniously from him, ducked back to help Neville with Hermione, and pulled Sirius in and threw him inside, hearing him yell in pain and feeling slightly guilty. They were all over the threshold just in time to slam the door on Bellatrix. 

"_Colloportus!_" shouted Harry, and he heard three bodies slam into the door on the other side. 

"It doesn't matter!" said a man's voice. It sounded like Lucius Malfoy's. "There are other ways in-WE'VE GOT THEM, THEY'RE HERE!" 

Harry spun around, said a hurried apology to Sirius, who was struggling to get up. They were back in the Brain Room and, sure enough, there doors all around the walls. He could hear footsteps in the hall behind them as more Death Eaters came running to join the first. 

"Luna-Neville-help me!"

The three of them tore around the room, sealing the doors as they went, Harry crashing into a table and rolled over the top of it in his haste to reach the next door. 

"_Colloportus!_" 

There footsteps running along behind the doors; every no and then another heavy body would launch itself against one, so it creaked and shuddered. Luna and Neville were bewitching the doors along the opposite wall-then, as Harry reached the very top of the room, he heard Luna cry, "_Collo_-aaaaaaaaargh . . ."

He turned in time to see her flying through the air. Five Death Eaters were surging into the room through the door she had not reached in time; Luna hit the desk, slid over its surface and onto the floor on the other side where she lay sprawled, as still as Hermione. 

"Get Potter!" shrieked Bellatrix, and she ran at him. He dodged her and sprinted back up the room; he was safe as long as they thought they might hit the prophecy-

"Hey!" said Ron, who had staggered to his feet and was now tottering drunkenly toward Harry, giggling. "Hey, Harry, there are brains in here, ha ha ha, isn't that weird, Harry?"

"Ron, get out of the way, get down-"

But Ron had already pointed his wand at the tank. 

"Honest, Harry, they're brains-look-_Accio Brain!_"

The scene seemed momentarily frozen. Harry, Ginny, Neville, and Sirius and each of the Death Eaters turned in spite of themselves to watch the top of the tank as a brain burst from the green liquid like a leaping fish. For a moment it seemed suspended in midair, then it soared toward Ron, spinning as it came, and what looked like ribbons of moving images flew from it, unraveling like rolls of film-

"Ha ha ha, Harry, look at it-" said Ron, watching it disgorge its gaudy innards. "Harry, come and touch it, bet it's weird-"

"RON, NO!" 

Harry did not know what would happen if Ron touched the tentacles of thought now flying behind the brain, but he was sure it would not be anything good. He darted forward but Ron had already caught the brain in his outstretched hands. 

The moment they made contact with his skin, the tentacles began wrapping themselves around Ron's arms like ropes. 

"Harry, look what's happen-no-no, I don't like it-no, stop-_stop_-"

But the thin ribbons were spinning around Ron's chest now. He tugged and tore at them as the brain was pulled tight against him like an octopus' body. 

"_Diffindo!_" yelled Harry, trying to sever the feelers wrapping themselves tightly around Ron before his eyes, but they would not break. Ron fell over, still thrashing against his bonds. 

"Harry, it'll suffocate him!" screamed Ginny, immobilized by her broken ankle on the floor-then a jet of red light flew from on of the Death Eater's wands and hit her squarely in the face. She keeled over sideways and lay there, unconscious. 

"Harry, get out of here!" said Sirius. "Go! I'll care for Ron!"   
He pointed his wand at Ron, but Bellatrix yelled the Reductor Curse and Sirius flew a few feet, yelling. He hit the wall with such tremendous force that it left a dent and some of it crumbled to the ground. Sirius slid down the wall and lay with his eyes open a fraction of an inch, glassy and unfocused. 

"SIRIUS!" 

Harry felt the pit of his stomach fall as he tried feebly to free Ron. 

"Sirius! . . ."   
  


**_TO BE CONTINUED. . . . _**

**Author's Note:**** I haven't decided if I'm going to kill Sirius or not. I'll have to see. I have a **** Live Journal and I'll be posting some fiction and updates there. You can get a look at other fiction that I'm going to write. Thank you for reading. Stay tuned and please _REVIEW! _because I love them. **

**PS I'm doing a sequel!!! It'll be up in spring (I hope) and It'll be called If Only for Now. I have a group called the If Only Universe are few people in the group and no posts so far. So, please join.**


	2. Rescuers and The Fountain

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Much of this text was copied directly from JK Rowling's Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.** These passages are not mine, and I take no credit for them.

Summary: 

What if Rookwood hadn't gotten Voldemort onto the right track? What if Voldemort really _had _kidnapped Sirius and taken him to the Department of Mysteries? Would the outcome of the Battle be the same? Or would Sirius still be alive?

If Only 

**Chapter Two: Rescuers and The Fountain**

"STUBEFY!" shouted Neville, wheeling around and waving Hermione's wand at the oncoming Death Eaters, as Harry tore his eyes away from Sirius's prone form on the floor. "_STUBEFY, STUBEFY!_"

But nothing happened-one of the Death Eaters shot their own Stunning Spell at Neville; it missed him by inches. Harry and Neville were now the only two left fighting the five Death Eaters, two of whom sent streams of silver light like arrows past them that left craters in the wall behind them. Harry ran for it as Bellatrix Lestrange sprinted right at him. Holding the prophecy high above his head he sprinted back up the room; all he could think of doing was to draw the Death Eaters away from the others. 

It seemed to have worked. They streaked after him, knocking chairs and tables flying but not daring to bewitch him in case they hurt the prophecy, and he dashed through the only door still open, the one through which the Death Eaters themselves had come. Inwardly praying that Neville would stay with Ron-find some way of releasing him-he ran a few feet into the new room and felt the floor vanish- 

He was falling down steep stone step after steep stone step, bouncing on every tier until at last, with a crash that knocked all of the breath out of his body, he landed flat on his back in the sunken pit where the stone archway stood on its dais. The whole room was ringing with the Death Eaters' laughter. He looked up and saw the five who had been in the Brain Room descending toward him, while many more emerged through other doorways and began leaping from bench to bench toward him. Harry got to his feet though his legs were trembling so badly they barely supported him. The prophecy was still miraculously unbroken in his left hand, his wand clutched tightly in his right. He backed away, looking around, trying to keep all the Death Eaters within his sights. The back of his legs hit something solid; he had reached the dais where the archway stood. He climbed backward onto it. 

The Death Eaters all halted, gazing at him. Some were panting as hard as he was. One was bleeding badly; Dolohov, freed from the full Body-Bind, was leering, his wand pointing straight at Harry's face. 

"Potter, your race is run," drawled Lucius Malfoy, pulling off his mask. "Now hand me the prophecy like a good boy. . . ."

"Let-let the others go, and I'll give it to you!" said Harry desperately. He was thinking of Sirius's half open eyes. 

A few of the Death Eaters laughed.

"You are not in a position to bargain, Potter," said Lucius Malfoy, his pale face flushed with pleasure. "You see, there are ten of us and only one of you . . . or hasn't Dumbledore ever taught you to count?" 

"He's dot alone!" shouted a voice from above them. "He's still god be!"

Harry's heart sank. Neville was scrambling down the stone benches toward them, Hermione's wand held fast in his trembling hand. 

"Neville-no-go back to Ron-"

"STUBEFY!" Neville shouted again, pointing his wand at each Death Eater in turn, 

"STUBEFY! STUBE-"

One of the largest Death Eaters seized Neville from behind, pinioning his arms to his sides. He struggled and kicked; several of the Death Eaters laughed. 

"It's Longbottom, isn't it?" sneered Lucius Malfoy. "Well, your grandmother is used to losing family members to our cause. . . . Your death will not come as a great shock. . . ."

"Longbottom?" repeated Bellatrix, and a truly evil smile lit her gaunt face. "Why, I have had the pleasure of meeting your parents, boy. . . ." 

"I DOE YOU HAB!" roared Neville, who seemed beside himself, kicking and writhing as Bellatrix drew nearer to him and his captor, her wand raised. "DON'D GIB ID DO DEM, HARRY!"

Bellatrix raised her wand. "_Crucio_!" 

Neville screamed, his legs drawn up to his chest so that the Death Eater holding him was momentarily holding him off the ground. The Death Eater dropped him and he fell to floor, twitching and screaming in agony. 

"That was just a taster!" said Bellatrix, raising her wand so that Neville's screams stopped and he lay sobbing at her feet. She turned and gazed up at Harry. "Now, Potter, either give us the prophecy or watch you little friend die the hard way!"

Harry did not have to think; there was no choice. He heard soft voices coming from the Brain Room and hoped that Luna had woken up and was maybe helping Ron free himself. The prophecy was hot with the heat from his clutching hand as he held it out. Malfoy jumped forward to take it. 

Then, high above them, two more doors burst open and five more people sprinted into the room: Lupin, Moody, Tonks, Kingsley and Sirius, limping in wake of them. 

Malfoy turned and raised his wand, but Tonks had already sent a Stunning Spell right at him. Harry did not wait to see whether it had made contact, but dived off the dais out of the way. The Death Eaters were completely distracted by the appearance of the members of the Order, who were now raining spells down upon them as they jumped from step to step toward the sunken floor: Through the darting bodies, the flashes of light, Harry could see Neville crawling along. He dodged another jet of red light and flung himself flat on the ground to reach Neville. 

"Are you okay?" he yelled, as another spell soared inches over their heads. 

"Yes," said Neville, trying to pull himself up. 

"And Ron?"

"I dink he's all right-he was still fighding the brain when I left-"

The stone floor between them exploded as a spell it, leaving a crater right where Neville's hand had been seconds before. Both scrambled away from the spot, then a thick arm came out of nowhere, seized Harry around the neck and pulled him upright, so that his toes were barely touching the floor. 

"Give it to me," growled a voice in his ear, "give me the prophecy-"

The man was pressing so tightly on Harry's windpipe that he could not breathe-though watering eyes, he saw Sirius dueling with a Death Eater some ten feet away. Kingsley was fighting two at once; Tonks, still halfway up the tiered seats, was firing spells down at Bellatrix-nobody seemed to realize that Harry was dying. . . . He turned his wand backward toward the man's side, but had no breath to utter an incantation, and the man's free hand was groping toward the hand in which Harry was grasping the prophecy-

"AARGH!" 

Neville had come lunging out of nowhere: Unable to articulate a spell, had jabbed Hermione's wand hard into the eyehole of the Death Eater's mask. The man relinquished Harry at once with a howl of pain and Harry whirled around to face and gasped, "_STUPEFY!_"

The Death Eater keeled over backward and his mask slipped off. It was Macnair, Buckbeak's would-be killer, one of his eyes now swollen and bloodshot. 

"Thanks!" Harry said to Neville, pulling him aside as Sirius and his Death Eater lurched past, dueling so fiercely that their wands were blurs. Then Harry's foot made contact with something round and hard and he slipped-for a moment he thought he had dropped the prophecy, then saw Moody's magic eye spinning away across the floor. 

Its owner was lying on his side, bleeding from the head, and his attacker was now bearing down upon Harry and Neville: Dolohov, his long pale face twisted with glee. 

"_Tarantallegra!_" he shouted, his wand pointing at Neville, whose legs went immediately into a kind of frenzied tap dance, unbalancing him and causing him to fall to the floor again. "Now, Potter-"

He made the same slashing movement with his wand that he had used on Hermione just as Harry yelled, "_Protego!_"

Harry felt something streak across his face like a blunt knife but the force of it knocked him sideways and he fell over Neville's jerking legs, but the Shield Charm had stopped the worst of the spell. 

Dolohov raised his wand again. "_Accio Proph_-"

Sirius hurtled out of nowhere, rammed Dolohov with his shoulder, and sent him flying out of the way. The prophecy had again flown to the tips of Harry's fingers but he had managed to cling to it. Now Sirius and Dolohov were dueling, their wands flashing like swords, sparks flying from their wand tips-

Dolohov drew back his wand to make the same slashing movement he had used on Harry's and Hermione. Springing up, Harry yelled, "_Petrificus Totalus!_" Once again, Dolohov's arms and legs snapped together and keeling over backward, landing with a crash on his back. 

"Nice one!" shouted Sirius, forcing Harry's head down as a pair of Stunning Spells flew toward them. "Now I want you to get out of-"

They both ducked again. A jet of green light narrowly missed Sirius; across the room Harry saw Tonks fall from halfway up the stone steps, her limp form toppling from stone seat to stone seat, and Bellatrix, triumphant, running back toward the fray. 

"Harry, take the prophecy, grab Neville, and run!" Sirius yelled, dashing to meet Bellatrix. Harry did not see what happened next: Kingsley swayed across his field of vision, battling with the pock-marked Rookwood, now mask-less; another jet of green light flew over Harry's head as he launched himself toward Neville-

"Can you stand?" he bellowed in Neville's ear, as Neville's legs jerked and twitched uncontrollably. "Put your arm around my neck-"

Neville did so-Harry heaved-Neville's legs were still flying in every direction, they would not support him and then, out of nowhere, a man lunged at them. Both fell backward, Neville's legs waving wildly like an overturned beetle's, Harry with his left held up in the air to try and save the small glass ball from being smashed. 

"The prophecy, give me the prophecy, Potter!" snarled Lucius Malfoy's voice in his ear, and Harry felt the tip of Malfoy's wand pressing hard between his ribs. 

"No-get-off-me . . . Neville-catch it!"

Harry flung the prophecy across the floor, Neville spun himself around on his back and scooped the ball to his chest. Malfoy pointed the wand instead at Neville, but Harry jabbed his own wand back over his shoulder and yelled, "_Impedimenta!_"

Malfoy was blasted off his back. As Harry scrambled up again he looked around and saw Malfoy smash into the dais, near which Sirius and Bellatrix were now dueling. Malfoy aimed his wand at Harry and Neville again, but before he could draw breath to strike, Lupin had jumped between them. 

"Harry, round up the others and GO!"

Harry seized Neville by the shoulder of his robes and lifted him bodily onto the first tier of stone steps. Neville's legs twitched and jerked and would not support his weight. Harry heaved again with all the strength he possessed and they climbed another step-

A spell hit the stone bench at Harry's heel. It crumbled away and he fell back to step below: Neville sank to the ground, his legs still jerking and thrashing, and thrust the prophecy into his pocket.

"Come on!" said Harry desperately, hauling at Neville's robes. "Just try and push with your legs-" 

He gave another stupendous heave and Neville's robes tore all along the left seam-the small spun-glass ball dropped from his pocket and before either of them could catch it, one of Neville's floundering feet kicked it. It flew some ten feet to their right and smashed on the step beneath them. As both of them stared at the place where it had broken, appalled at what had happened, a pearly-white figure with hugely magnified eyes rose into the air, unnoticed by any but them. Harry could see its mouth moving, but in all of the crashes and screams and yells surrounding them, not one word of the prophecy could he hear. The figure stopped speaking and dissolved into nothingness. 

"Harry, I'b sorry!" cried Neville, his face anguished as his legs continued to flounder, "I'b so sorry, Harry, I didn'd bean do-"

"It doesn't matter!" Harry shouted. "Just try and stand, let's get out of-"

"_Dubbledore_!" said Neville, his sweaty face suddenly transported, staring over Harry's shoulder. 

"What?"

"DUBBLEDORE!"

Harry turned to look where Neville was staring. Directly above them, framed in the doorway from the Brain Room, stood Albus Dumbledore, his wand aloft, his face white and furious. Harry felt a kind of electric charge surge through every particle of his body-_they were saved._

Dumbledore sped down the steps past Neville and Harry, who had no more thought of leaving. Dumbledore was already at the foot of the steps when the Death Eaters nearest realized he was there. There were yells; one of the Death Eaters ran for it, scrambling like a monkey up the stone steps opposite. Dumbledore's spell pulled him back as easily and effortlessly as though he had hooked him with an invisible line-

Only one couple were still battling, apparently unaware of the new arrival. Harry saw Sirius duck Bellatrix's jet of red light. He didn't seem to be able to keep up with her, and it was frustrating him. He was just managing to stay on his feet. 

"Come on," he said, chuckling feebly. "You can do better than that!"

She drew her wand back and, just as Dolohov had, and made that violent slashing movement, yelling, "_Percutio__!_"

Sirius stood there, his eyes widening in shock and pain. 

Harry released Neville, though he was unaware of doing so. Sirius seemed to be trying to stay conscious. But he slipped sideways and fell, hitting his head on the side of the dais as he went. Bellatrix screamed triumphantly. 

"SIRIUS!" Harry screamed. "SIRIUS!" 

Lupin darted forward fast enough to catch his friend as he slumped into his arms. He laid him on the ground and began to fight furiously with Bellatrix, and Harry thought that he looked quite frightening for a moment. Harry watched Sirius' chest, but he noticed the hand that was clutching a clump of robe on his chest. He noticed that with every breath, Sirius' hand would clench ever so slightly and then, as he exhaled, it would loosen, only to tighten again. 

_He was alive! Possibly dying, but, for the moment, alive! _

Dumbledore had most of the remaining Death Eaters grouped in the middle of the room, seemingly immobilized by invisible ropes. While watching the Death Eaters, he glanced at Sirius uneasily. Mad-Eye Moody had crawled across the room to where Tonks lay and was attempting to revive her. Kingsley ran to meet Bellatrix from behind and immediately began to draw her around the dais. 

It worked. The moment she was more than ten feet away from Sirius, Harry ran forward. Sirius looked distinctly the worse that Harry had ever seen him, even worse than he had during his third year. His godfather's bandages had grown ragged in the hour or so that they'd fought the Death Eaters. His head was bleeding and he was un-humanly pale. His chest just barely rose and fell. 

"Sirius . . ." breathed Lupin. " . . . Sirius . . . wake up . . ."

Neither dared shake him. Behind the dais, there were still flashes of light, grunts, and cries. 

"Harry . . ." 

Harry looked up at Lupin, but it wasn't he who had spoken.

"Harry . . ."

With every other breath, Sirius was whispering his name. 

"Sirius," said Harry. "I-I'm here."

He grasped his godfather's surprisingly cold hand. But he realized with a sickening crunch of his stomach that Sirius could not hear him. 

"Is he gonna be all righd?" 

Neville had slid down the stone benches one by one to the place where Sirius lay. His legs were still dancing uncontrollably. 

"I-I'm not sure . . ." Harry croaked. 

"Here," said Lupin quietly, and pointing his wand at Neville's legs, he said, "Finite." The spell was lifted. Neville's legs fell back onto the floor and remained still. Lupin was almost as pale as Sirius. "Let's-let's get the others. I assume they're still in the Brain Room."

"I dink dey are," said Neville. "A brain-"

There was a loud bang and a yell from behind the dais. Harry saw Kingsley, yelling in pain, hit the ground. Bellatrix Lestrange turned tail and ran fast as Dumbledore whipped around. He aimed a spell at her but she deflected it. She was halfway up the steps now-

And then the breaths of, "Harry" diminished. Harry could not hear anything of Sirius's breathing. His godfather lay still as a statue. He was-was . . . Numb disbelief coursed through Harry for a few moments and then he noticed Bellatrix-

"Harry-no!" cried Lupin. But Harry had already released Sirius' freezing hand and was on his feet. 

"SHE KILLED SIRIUS!" he bellowed. "SHE KILLED HIM-I'LL KILL HER!"

And he was off, scrambling up the stone benches. People were shouting behind him but he did not care. The hem of Bellatrix's robes whipped out of sight ahead and they were back in the room where the brains were swimming. . . .

She aimed a curse over her shoulder. The tank rose into the air and tipped. Harry was deluged in the foul-smelling potion with in. The brains slipped and slid over him and began spinning their long, colored tentacles, but he shouted, "_Wingardium Leviosa_!" and they flew into the air away from him. Slipping and sliding, he ran on toward the door. He leapt over Luna, who was groaning on the floor, past Ginny, who said, "Harry-what-?" past Ron, who giggled feebly, and Hermione, who was still unconscious. He wrenched open the door into the circular black hall and saw Bellatrix disappearing through a door on the other side of the room-beyond her was corridor leading back to the lifts. 

He ran, but she had slammed the door behind her and the walls had begun to rotate again. Once more he was surrounded by streaks of blue light from the whirling candelabra. 

"Where's the exit?" he shouted desperately, as the wall rumbled to halt again. "Where's the way out?"

The room seemed to have been waiting for him to ask. The door right behind him flew open, and the corridor toward the lifts stretched ahead of him, torch-lit and empty. He ran. . . . 

He could hear a lift clattering ahead of him. He sprinted up the passageway, swung around the corner, and slammed his fist onto the button to call a second lift. It jangled and banged lower and lower; the grills slid open and Harry dashed inside, now hammering on the button marked Atrium. The doors slid shut and he was rising. . . . 

Hot anger was boiling in his veins. Sirius might not survive and it was all Bellatrix's fault. He would kill her for what she'd done to his godfather; that was for sure. 

He forced his way of the lift before the grilles were fully open and looked around. Bellatrix was almost to the telephone lift at the other end of the hall, but she looked back as he sprinted toward her, and aimed another spell at him. He dodged behind the Fountain of Magical Brethren; the spell zoomed past him and hit the wrought gold gates at the other end of the Atrium so that they rang like bells. There were no more footsteps. She had stopped running. He crouched behind the statues, listening. 

_"Come out, come out, little Harry!"_ she called in her mock-baby voice, which echoed off the polished wooden floors. "What did you come after me for, then? I thought you were here to avenge my dear cousin!"

"I am!" shouted Harry, and a score of ghostly Harrys seemed to chorus _I am! I_ _am! I am!_ all around the room.

"Aaaaaah . . . do you _love_ him, little baby Potter?" she laughed. "Or has he already died?"

Hatred rose in Harry such as he had never known before. He flung himself out from behind the fountain and bellowed, "_Crucio_!"

Bellatrix screamed. The spell had knocked her off her feet, but she did not writhe and shriek with pain as Neville had-she was already on her feet again, breathless, no longer laughing. Harry dodged behind the golden fountain again-her counterspell hit the head of the handsome wizard, which was blown off and landed twenty feet away, gouging long scratches into the wooden floor. 

"Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, boy?" she yelled. She had abandoned her baby voice now. "You need to _mean_ them, Potter! You need to really want to cause pain-to enjoy it-righteous anger won't hurt me for long-I'll show how it is done, shall I? I'll give you a lesson-"

Harry had been edging around the fountain and the other side. She screamed, "_Crucio!_" and he was forced to duck down again as the centaur's arm, holding its bow, spun off and land with a crash on the floor a short distance from the golden wizard's head. 

"Potter, you cannot win against me!" she cried. He could hear her moving to the right, trying to get a clear shot of him. He backed around the statue away from her, crouching behind the centaur's legs, his head level with the house-elf's. "I was and am the Dark Lord's most loyal servant, I learned the Dark Arts from him, and I know spells of such power that you, pathetic little boy, can never hope to compete-"

"_Stupefy!_" yelled Harry. He had edged right to where the goblin stood beaming up at the now headless wizard and taken aim at her back as she peered around the fountain for him. She reacted so fast that he barely had time to duck. 

"_Protego!_" 

The jet of red light, his own Stunning Spell, bounced back at him. Harry scrambled back behind the fountain, and one of the goblins ears went flying across the room. 

"Potter, I am going to give you one chance!" shouted Bellatrix. "Give the prophecy-roll it out toward me now-and I may spare your life!"

"Well, you're going to have to kill me, because it's gone!" Harry roared-and as he shouted it, pain seared across his forehead. His scar was on fire again, and he felt a surge of fury that was quite unconnected with his own rage. "And he knows!" said Harry with a mad laugh to match Bellatrix's own. "Your dear old mate Voldemort knows it's gone! He's not going to be happy with you, is he?"

"What? What do you mean?" she cried, and for the first time there was fear in her voice. 

"The prophecy smashed when I was trying to get Neville up the steps! What do you think Voldemort'll say about that, then?"

His scar seared and burned. . . . The pain of it was making his eyes stream. . . . 

"LIAR!" she shrieked, but he could hear the terror behind the anger now. "YOU'VE GOT IT, POTTER, AND YOU WILL GIVE IT TO ME-_Accio Prophecy! ACCIO PROPHECY!_"

Harry laughed again because he knew it would incense her, the pain building in his head so badly he thought his skull might burst. He was waved his empty hand from behind the one-eared goblin and withdrew it quickly as she sent another jet of green light flying at him. 

"Nothing there!" he shouted. "Nothing to summon! It smashed and nobody heard what it said, tell your boss that-"

"No!" she screamed. "It isn't true, you're lying-MASTER, I TRIED, I TRIED-DO NOT PUNISH ME-"

"Don't waste your breath!" yelled Harry, his eyes screwed up against the pain in his scar, now more terrible than ever. "He can't hear you from here!"

"Can't I, Potter?" said a high, cold voice. 

Harry opened his eyes. 

Tall, thin, and black-hooded, his terrible snakelike face white and gaunt, his scarlet, slit-pupiled eyes staring . . . Lord Voldemort had appeared in the middle of the hall, his wand pointing at Harry, who stood frozen, quite unable to move. 

"So you smashed my prophecy?" said Voldemort softly, staring at Harry with those pitiless red eyes. "No, Bella, he is not lying. . . . I see the truth looking at me from within his worthless mind. . . . Months of preparation, months of effort . . . and my Death Eaters have let Harry Potter thwart me again. . . ."

"Master, I am sorry, I knew not, I was fighting the Animagus Black!" sobbed Bellatrix, flinging herself down at Voldemort's feet as he paced slowly nearer. "Master, you should know-"

"Be quiet, Bella," said Voldemort dangerously. "I shall deal with you in a moment. Do you think I have entered the Ministry of Magic to hear your sniveling apologies?"

"But Master-he is here-he is below-"

Voldemort paid no attention.

"I have nothing more to say to you, Potter," he said quietly. "You have irked me too often, for too long. _AVADA KEDAVRA!_"

Harry had not even opened his mouth to resist. His mind was blank, his wand pointing uselessly at the floor. 

But the headless golden statue of the wizard had sprung alive, leaping from its plinth, and landed on the floor with a crash between Harry and Voldemort. The spell merely glanced off its chest as the statue flung out its arms, protecting Harry. 

"What-?" said Voldemort, staring around. And then he breathed, "Dumbledore!"

Harry looked behind him, his heart pounding. Dumbledore was standing in front of the golden gates. 

Voldemort raised his wand and sent another jet of green light at Dumbledore, who turned and was gone in a whirling of his cloak; next second he had reappeared behind Voldemort and waved his wand toward the remnants of the fountain; the other statues sprang to life too. The statue of the witch ran at Bellatrix, who screamed and sent spells streaming uselessly off its chest, before it dived at her, pinning her to the floor. Meanwhile, the goblin and the house-elf scuttled toward the fireplaces set along the wall, the one-armed centaur galloped at Voldemort, who vanished and reappeared beside the pool. the headless statue thrust Harry backward, away from the fight as Dumbledore advanced on Voldemort and the golden centaur cantered around them both. 

"It was foolish to come here tonight, Tom," said Dumbledore calmly. "The Aurors are on their way-"

"By which time I shall gone, and you dead!" spat Voldemort. He sent another killing curse at Dumbledore but missed, instead hitting the security guard's desk, which burst into flame. 

Dumbledore flicked his own wand. The force of the spell that emanated from it was such that Harry, though shielded by his stone guard, felt his hair stand on end as it passed, and this time Voldemort was forced to conjure a shining silver shield out of thin air to deflect it. The spell, whatever it was, caused no visible damage to the shield, though a deep, gonglike note reverberated from it, an oddly chilling sound. . . . 

"You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore?" called Voldemort, his scarlet eyes narrowed over the top of the shield. "Above such brutality, are you?"

"We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom," Dumbledore said calmly, continuing to walk toward Voldemort as though he had not a fear in the world, as though nothing had happened to interrupt his stroll up the hall. "Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit-"

"There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!" snarled Voldemort.

"You are quite wrong," said Dumbledore, still closing in upon Voldemort and speaking as lightly as though they were discussing the matter over drinks. Harry felt scared to see him walking along, undefended, shieldless. He wanted to cry out a warning, but his headless guard kept shunting him backward toward the wall, blocking his every attempt to get out from behind it. "Indeed, your failure to understand that there are things much worse than death has always been your greatest weakness-"

Another jet of green light flew from behind the shield. This time it was the one-armed centaur, galloping in front of Dumbledore, that took the blast and shattered into a hundred pieces, but before the fragments had even hit the floor, Dumbledore had drawn back his wand and waved it as though brandishing a whip. A long thin flame flew from the tip; it wrapped itself around Voldemort, shield and all. For a moment, it seemed that Dumbledore had won, but they the fiery rope became a serpent, which relinquished its hold upon Voldemort at once and turned, hissing furiously, to face Dumbledore. 

Voldemort vanished. The snake reared from the floor, ready to strike-

There was a burst of flame in midair above Dumbledore just as Voldemort reappeared, standing on the plinth in the middle of the pool where so recently the five statues had stood. 

"Look out!" Harry yelled. 

But even as he shouted, one more jet of green light had flown at Dumbledore from Voldemort's wand and the snake had struck-

Fawkes swooped down in front of Dumbledore, opened his beak wide, and swallowed the jet of green light whole. He burst into flame and fell to the floor, small, wrinkled, and flightless. At the same moment, Dumbledore brandished his wand in one, long, fluid movement-the snake, which had been an instant from sinking its fangs into him, flew high into the air and vanished in a wisp of dark smoke; the water in the pool rose up and covered Voldemort like a cocoon of molten glass-

For a few seconds Voldemort was visible only as a dark rippling, faceless figure, shimmering and indistinct upon the plinth, clearly struggling to throw off the suffocating mass-

The he was gone, and the water fell with a crash back to its pool, slopping wildly over the sides, drenching the floor.

"MASTER!" screamed Bellatrix. 

Sure it was over, sure that Voldemort had decided to flee, Harry made to run out from behind his statue guard, but Dumbledore bellowed, "Stay where you are, Harry!"

For the first time, Dumbledore sounded frightened. Harry could not see why. The hall was quite empty but for themselves, the sobbing Bellatrix still trapped under her statue, and the tiny baby Fawkes croaking feebly on the floor-

And then Harry's scar burst open. He knew he was dead: it was pain beyond imagining, pain past endurance-

He was gone from the hall, he was locked in the coils of a creature with red eyes, so tightly bound that Harry did not know where his body ended and the creature's began. They were fused together, bound by pain, and there was no escape-

And when the creature spoke, it used Harry's mouth, so that in his agony he felt his jaw move. . . .

_"Kill me now, Dumbledore. . . ."_

Blinded and dying, every part of him screaming for release, Harry felt the creature use him again. . . .

_"If death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy. . . ."_

_Let the pain stop, _thought Harry._ Let him kill us. . . . End it, Dumbledore. . . . Death is nothing compared to this. . . ._

_And I'll see Sirius again. . . ._

And as Harry's heart filled with emotion, the creature's coils loosened, the pain was gone, Harry was lying facedown on the floor, his glasses gone, shivering as thought he lay upon ice, not wood. . . . 

And there were voices echoing through the hall, more voices than there should have been: Harry opened his eyes, saw his glasses lying at the heel of the headless statue that had been guarding him, but which now lay flat on its back, cracked and immobile. He put them on and raised his head an inch to find Dumbledore's crooked nose inches from his own. 

"Are you all right, Harry?"

"Yes," said Harry, shaking so violently he could not hold his head up properly. "Yeah, I'm-where's Voldemort, where-who are all these-what's-"

The Atrium was full of people. The floor was reflecting emerald green flames that had burst into life in all of the fireplaces along the wall, and a stream of witches and wizards was emerging from them. As Dumbledore pulled him back to his feet, Harry saw the tiny gold statues of the house-elf and the goblin leading a stunned-looking Cornelius Fudge forward. 

"He was there!" shouted a scarlet-robed man with a ponytail, who pointing at a pile of golden rubble on the other side of the hall, where Bellatrix had lain trapped moments before. "I saw him, Mr. Fudge, I swear, it was You-Know-Who, he grabbed a woman and Disapparated!"

"I know, Williamson, I know, I saw him too!" gibbered Fudge, who was wearing pajamas under his pinstriped cloak and he was gasping as though he'd just run miles. "Merlin's beard-here-_here!_-in the Ministry of Magic!-great heavens above-it doesn't seem possible-my word-how can this be?" 

"If you proceed downstairs into the Department of Mysteries, Cornelius," said Dumbledore, apparently satisfied that Harry was all right, and walked forward so that the newcomers realized he was there for the first time (a few of them raised their wands, others simply looked amazed; the statues of the elf and goblin applauded and Fudge jumped so much that his slipper-clad feet left the floor), "you will find several escaped Death Eaters contained in the Death Chamber, bound by an Anti-Disapperation Jinx and awaiting your decision as to what to do with them."

"Dumbledore!" gasped Fudge, apparently beside himself with amazement. "You-here-I-I-"

He looked wildly around at the Aurors he had brought with him, and it could not have been clearer that he was in half a mind to cry, "Seize him!"

"Cornelius, I am ready to fight your men-and win again!" said Dumbledore in a thunderous voice. "But a few minutes ago, you saw proof, with your own eyes, that I have been telling you the truth for a year. Lord Voldemort has returned, you have been chasing the wrong men for twelve months, and it is time you listened to sense!"

"I-don't-well-" blustered Fudge, looking around as though hoping somebody was going to tell him what to do. When nobody did, he said, "Very well-Dawlish! Williamson! Go down to the Department of Mysteries and see . . . Dumbledore, you-you will need tell me exactly-the Fountain of Magical Brethren-what happened?" he added a kind of a whimper, staring around at the floor where the remains of the statues of the witch, wizard, and centaur now lay scattered. 

"We can discuss that after I have sent Harry back to Hogwarts," said Dumbledore. 

"Harry-_Harry Potter?_"

Fudge wheeled around and stared at Harry, who was still standing against the wall beside the fallen statue that had been guarding him during Dumbledore and Voldemort's duel.

"He-here?" said Fudge, goggling at Harry. "Why-what's all this about?"

"I shall explain everything," repeated Dumbledore, "when Harry is back at school."

He walked away from pool to the place where the golden wizard's head lay on the floor. He pointed his wand at it and muttered, "_Portus_." The head glowed blue and trembled noisily against the wooden floor for a few seconds, then became still once more. 

"Now, see here Dumbledore!" said Fudge, as Dumbledore picked up the head and walked back to Harry carrying it. "You haven't got authorization for that Portkey! You can't do things like that right in front of the Minister of Magic, you-you-"

His voice faltered as Dumbledore surveyed him magisterially over his half-moon spectacles. 

"You will give the order to remove Dolores Umbridge from Hogwarts," said Dumbledore. "You will tell your Aurors to stop searching for my Care of Magical Creatures teacher so that he can return to work. I will give you . . ." Dumbledore pulled out a watch with twelve hands from his pocket and surveyed it, "half an hour of my time tonight, in which I think we shall be more than able to cover the important points of what has happened here. After that, I shall need to return to my school. If you need more help from me you are, of course, more than welcome to contact me at Hogwarts. Letters addressed to the headmaster will find me."

Fudge goggled worse than ever. His mouth was open and his round face grew pinker under his rumpled gray hair.

"I-you-"

Dumbledore turned his back on him. 

"Take this Portkey, Harry."

He held out the head of the golden statue, and Harry placed his hand upon it, past caring what he did next or where he went. 

"I shall see you in half an hour," said Dumbledore quietly. "One . . . two . . . three . . ."

Harry felt the familiar sensation of a hook being jerked behind his navel. The polished wooden floor was gone from beneath his feet; the Atrium, Fudge, and Dumbledore had all disappeared, and he was flying forward in a whirlwind of color and sound. . . .   
  


**_TO BE CONTINUED. . . . _**

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**Author's Note: So . Its up to me whether or not Sirius is going to survive or not . You think he's dead? So, don't go yet, he might well live for the next chapter. Stick around, because the whole explanation is very different from the original one, even though it is very alike it too. Thank you for reading, stick around for next because, quite frankly, I'm not sure what's going to happen either. This is the first story I've ever written without an actual plotline-well, a planned one, anyway. Should be interesting. **

**Please REVIEW! I want to know what you think.**

PS I'm doing a sequal!!! It'll be up in spring (I hope) and It'll be called If Only for Now. I have a group called the If Only Universe are few people in the group and no posts so far. So, please join.


	3. The Lost Prophecy

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Much of this text was copied directly from JK Rowling's Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. These passages are not mine, and I take no credit for them.

Summary: 

What if Rookwood hadn't gotten Voldemort onto the right track? What if Voldemort really _had _kidnapped Sirius and taken him to the Department of Mysteries? Would the outcome of the Battle be the same? Or would Sirius still be alive?

**If Only**

**Chapter Three: The Lost Prophecy**

Harry's feet hit solid ground again; his knees buckled a little and the golden wizard's head fell with a resounding _clunk_ to the floor. He looked around and saw that he had arrived in Dumbledore's office. 

Everything seemed to have repaired itself during the headmaster's absence. The delicate silver instruments stood again upon the spindle legged tables, puffing and whirring serenely. The portraits of the headmasters and headmistresses were snoozing in their frames, heads looking back in their armchairs or against the edge of their pictures. Harry looked through the window. There was a cool line of pale green along the horizon: Dawn was approaching. 

The silence and stillness, broken only by the occasional grunt or snuffle of a sleeping portrait, was unbearable to him. If his surroundings could have reflected the feelings inside him, the pictures would have been screaming in pain. He walked around the quiet, beautiful office, breathing quickly, trying not to think. But he had to think. ... There was no escape. ... 

It was his fault Sirius had died; it was all his fault. If he, Harry, had not been so stupid to go running to Ministry instead of stopping to think and tell Snape, if he had just let the Order do what they did best. They could have saved Sirius and he would be being healed this moment. Hermione would be conscious-no, she actually might be sleeping in bed; they all would. Ron would be sane. Voldemort had obviously realized that it was Harry that he wanted. If he'd only opened his mind to the possibility that Voldemort was, as Hermione had said, banking on Harry's _love of playing the hero_ . . . 

It was unbearable; he would not think about it, he could not stand it. ... There was a terrible hollow inside him he did not want to feel or examine, like a dark hole where Sirius had bee, where Sirius had vanished in last whisper of "Harry . . ." He did not want to have to be alone in this great, silent space, he could not stand it-

A picture behind him gave a particularly loud grunting snore, and a cool voice said, "Ah ... Harry Potter ..."

Phineas Nigellus gave a long yawn, stretching his arms as he surveyed Harry out of shrewd, narrowed eyes. 

"And what brings you here in the early hours of the morning?" said Phineas. "This office is supposed to be barred to all but the rightful headmaster. Or has Dumbledore sent you here? Oh, don't tell me ..." He gave another shuddering yawn. "Another message for my worthless great-great-grandson?"

Harry could not speak. Phineas Nigellus did not know that Sirius was dead, but Harry could not tell him. To say it aloud would be to make it final, absolute, irretrievable. 

A few more of the portraits had stirred now. Terror of being interrogated made Harry stride across the room and seize the doorknob.

It would not turn. He was shut in. 

"I hope this means," said the corpulent, red-nosed wizard who hung on the wall behind Dumbledore's desk, "that Dumbledore will soon be back with us?" 

Harry turned. The wizard was surveying him with great interest. Harry nodded. He tugged again on the doorknob behind his back, but it remained immoveable. 

"Oh, good," said the wizard. "It has been very dull without him, very dull indeed."

He settled himself on the throne-like chair on which he had been painted and smiled benignly upon Harry. 

"Dumbledore thinks very highly of you, as I am sure you know," he said comfortably. "Oh yes. Holds you in great esteem."

The guilt filling the whole of Harry's chest like some monstrous, weightly parasite now writhed and squirmed. Harry could not stand this; he could not stand being Harry anymore. ... He had never felt more trapped inside his own head and body, never wished so intensely that he could be somebody-anybody-else. ... 

The empty fireplace burst into emerald-green flame, making Harry leap away from the door, staring at the man spinning inside the grate. As Dumbledore's tall form unfolded itself from the fire, the wizards and witches jerked awake. Many of them gave cries of welcome.

"Thank you," said Dumbledore softly. 

He did not look at Harry at first, but walked over to the perch beside the door and withdrew, from an inside pocket of his robes, the tiny, ugly, featherless Fawkes, whom he placed gently in on the tray of soft ashes beneath the golden post where the full-grown Fawkes usually stood. 

"Well, Harry," said Dumbledore, finally turning away from the baby bird, "you will be pleased to hear that none of your fellow students are going to suffer any lasting damage from the night's events."

Harry tried to say "Good," by no sound came out. It seemed to him that Dumbledore was reminding him of the amount of damage he had caused by his actions tonight, and although Dumbledore was for once looking at him directly, and though his expression was kindly rather than accusatory, Harry could not bear to meet his eyes. 

"Madam Pomfrey is patching everybody up now," said Dumbledore. "Nymphadora Tonks may need to spend a little time in St. Mungo's, but it seems that she will make a full recovery."

Harry contented himself with nodding at the carpet, which was growing lighter as they sky outside grew paler. He was sure that all the portraits around the room were listening closely to every word Dumbledore spoke, wondering where Dumbledore and Harry had been and why there had been injuries. 

Dumbledore seemed to hesitate slightly. "Sirius has been taken to Grimmauld Place," he said after a moment. "The Order are doing what they can for him."

Harry's head jerked upward. "W-what do you mean?" he croaked. "He's-he's de-I thought I saw him d-I thought he was-"

"Moments after you left, Mr. Lupin was able to get him breathing again," Dumbledore explained calmly. "Sirius is still alive. He was immediately taken to Grimmauld Place."

"Wha-what's going to happen to him?" Harry choked, his voice constricted. It sounded just like Mrs. Weasley's note to her children had so many months ago in Sirius' kitchen. _Still alive_ . . . was Sirius, like Mr. Weasley had, hovering between life and death? But Sirius could not go to St. Mungo's. ... He'd have to be healed without a Healer's knowledge or magic. ...

"I do not know, Harry," Dumbledore told him, and, for the first time, he sounded gravely worried. "Harry ..." he hesitated again. "I-I will not hide from you the fact that Sirius may not survive the night." 

The bottom dropped from Harry's stomach. For a moment, a wonderful, stupendous moment, he'd thought that Sirius would be okay, that they damage was not so permanent. But then he felt a sensation he'd felt before with the disappearance of Dumbledore's solutions. Sirius was dying, and there was little anyone could do for him. 

"I need to go to him!" he exclaimed. 

Harry strode over to the door again and wrenched at it. There was no improvement from the last time he'd tried this. He turned back to Dumbledore. 

"Let me out," he said. He was shaking from head to foot. 

"No," said Dumbledore. "I must speak with you."

For a few seconds they stared at each other. 

"Let me out," Harry said again. 

"No," Dumbledore repeated simply. 

"I've-got-to-see-him!" said Harry, pulling hard on the doorknob in a vain hope that he would pull it off its hinges. 

"I will take you to him," said Dumbledore. "But not until I have had my say."

"He might be gone by then!" Harry shouted. He wheeled around to face Dumbledore as furiously as he would if he'd been facing Voldemort. "Do you-do you think I want to-do you think I give a-I'VE GOT TO GET TO SIRIUS!" Harry roared. "I don't want to hear _anything_ you've got to say! I _need_ to get to Sirius!" 

"I will take you to him," repeated Dumbledore. "But I promised him, before he lost consciousness, that I'd tell you no matter what!" 

Harry was still standing with his hand on the doorknob; he had half a mind to resume his struggling to make it turn. 

"Please sit down," said Dumbledore. It was not an order; it was request. 

Harry hesitated, then walked slowly across the room. 

"What is wrong with my great-great-grandson?" asked Phineas Nigellus slowly from Harry's left. "Is he-he's not dead?"

"No, not quite, Phineas," said Dumbledore, looking at him. "He has been mortally wounded and . . ." he glanced at Harry. "He may not live . . ."

"So . . . he's dying?" breathed Phineas. 

Dumbledore nodded slightly. "But not for certain."

"He can't . . ." whispered Phineas, and Harry could sense a hint of emotion in his voice. " . . . not . . . I-he's the la-"

Harry turned his head in time to see Phineas marching out of his portrait and knew that he had gone to visit the other painting in Grimmauld Place. Harry wished that he would come back and tell him how Sirius was. 

"Harry, I owe you an explanation," said Dumbledore. "An explanation of an old man's mistakes. For I see now that what I have done, and not done, with regard to you, bears all the hallmarks of the failings of age. Youth cannot know how age thinks and feels. But old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young . . . and I seem to have forgotten lately. . . ."

The sun was rising properly now. There was a rim of dazzling orange visible over the mountains and the sky above was colorless and bright. Harry wondered if Sirius, who must be lying on a bed in his house, could see the light and he hoped that it would help him hold on a little longer. But the light fell upon Dumbledore, upon the silver of his eyebrows and beard, upon the lines gouged deeply into his face. 

"I guessed, fifteen years ago," said Dumbledore, "when I saw the scar upon your forehead, what it might mean. I guessed that it might be a sign of the connection forged between you and Voldemort."

"You've told me this before, Professor," said Harry bluntly. He did not care about being rude. All he wanted was to see Sirius. 

"Yes," said Dumbledore apologetically. "Yes, but you see-it is necessary start with your scar. For it became apparent, shortly after you rejoined the magical world, that I was correct, and that your scar was giving you warnings when Voldemort was close to you, or else feeling powerful emotion. 

"I know," said Harry wearily. 

"And this ability of yours-to detect Voldemort's presence, even when he is disguised, and to know what he is feeling when his emotions are roused-has become more and more pronounced since Voldemort returned to his own body and his full powers.

"More recently," said Dumbledore, "I became concerned that Voldemort might realize that this connection exists. Sure enough, there came a time when you entered so far into his mind and thoughts that he sensed your presence. I am speaking, of course, of the night when you witnessed the attack on Mr. Weasley."

"Yeah, Snape told me," Harry muttered. 

"_Professor _Snape, Harry," Dumbledore corrected him quietly. "But did you not wonder why it was not I who explained it to you? Why I did not teach you Occlumency? Why I had not so much as looked at you for months?"

Harry looked up. He could see now that Dumbledore looked sad and tired. 

"Yeah," Harry mumbled. "Yeah, I wondered."

"You see," continued Dumbledore heavily, "I believed it could not be long before Voldemort attempted to force his way into your mind, to manipulate and misdirect your thoughts, and I was not eager to give him more incentives to do so. I was sure that if he realized that our relationship was-or ever had been-closer than that of headmaster and pupil, he would seize his chance to use you as a means to spy on me. I feared the uses to which he would put you, the possibility that he might try and possess you. Harry, I believe I was right to think that Voldemort would have made use of you in such a way. On those rare occasions when we had close contact, I though I saw a shadow of him stir behind your eyes. . . . I was trying, in distancing myself from you, to protect you. An old man's mistake . . ."

Harry remembered the feeling that a dormant snake had risen in him, ready to strike, on those occasions when he and Dumbledore made eye contact. 

"Voldemort's aim in possessing you, as he demonstrated tonight, would not have been my destruction. It would have been yours. He hoped, when he possessed you briefly a short while ago, that I would sacrifice you in hope of killing him."

He sighed deeply. Harry was letting the words wash over him. He would have been so interested to know all of this a few months ago. But now it seemed nothing to his will to see Sirius. That was all he wanted. He wanted to see his godfather. Harry was so sure that Sirius would die before he even got another chance to say goodbye. Why was Dumbledore keeping him from him? Why couldn't he break that promise? He was sure that Sirius wouldn't care . . . what could be so important?

"Sirius told me that you felt Voldemort awake inside you the very night that you had the vision of Arthur Weasley's attack. I knew at once that my worst fears were correct: Voldemort from that point had realized that he could use you. In an attempt to arm you against Voldemort's assaults on your mind, I arranged Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape."

He paused. Harry watched the sunlight, which was sliding slowly across the polished surface of Dumbledore's desk, illuminating a silver inkpot and a handsome scarlet quill. Harry could tell that the portraits all around them were awake and listening raptly to Dumbledore's explanation. He could hear the occasional rustle of robes, the slight clearing of a throat. Phineas Nigellus had still not returned. . . . 

"Professor Snape discovered," Dumbledore resumed, "that you had been dreaming about the door to the Department of Mysteries for months. Voldemort, of course, had been obsessed with the possibility of hearing the prophecy ever since he regained his body, and as he dwelled on the door, so did you, though you did not know it meant. 

"Voldemort captured Sirius yesterday his Death Eaters tortured him for many hours," the headmaster paused. "And then a Death Eater who'd working in the Ministry of Magic before his arrest," Harry had a shrewd idea who this Death Eater was, but felt to hollow with dread to think anything more about it, "told him that he'd known all along-that the prophecies held in the Ministry of Magic are heavily protected. Only the people to whom they refer can lift them from the shelves without suffering madness. Voldemort knew that it was either risk revealing himself at last and enter the Ministry-or else lure you to take it for him. He used Sirius presence in the Ministry to send you his memories and convert into them dreams. You see why it was important for you to master Occlumency?"

"But I didn't," muttered Harry. He said it aloud to try and ease the dead weight of guilt inside him; a confession must surely relieve some of the terrible pressure squeezing his heart. "I didn't practice, I didn't bother; I could've stopped myself having those dreams. Hermione kept telling me to do it, if I had he'd never have been able to show me where to go, and-Sirius wouldn't-if I'd just left it to the Order-he wouldn't-"

Something was erupting inside Harry's head: a need to justify himself, to explain-

"I thought that there wasn't anyone left in the Order at school to tell," said Harry.

"Professor Snape is a teacher that you have never seen eye to eye with," said Dumbledore.

"Snape!" Harry said angrily, his voice almost at a yell. "He didn't make anything easier. When I told him Voldemort had Sirius, he just sneered at me, as usual-"

"Harry, you know that Professor Snape had no choice but to pretend not to take you seriously in front of Dolores Umbridge," said Dumbledore steadily, "but as I have explained, he informed the Order as soon as possible about what you had said. It was he who deduced where you had gone when you did not return from the forest. It was he too who gave Professor Umbridge fake Veritaserum when she was attempting to force you to tell of Sirius' whereabouts. . . ."

Harry disregarded this; he felt a savage pleasure in blaming Snape, it seemed to easing his own sense of dreadful guilt, and he wanted to hear Dumbledore agree with him.

"Snape stopped giving me Occlumency lessons!" Harry snarled. "He threw me out of his office!"

"I am aware of it," said Dumbledore heavily. "It was a mistake for me not to teach you myself, though I was sure, at that time, that nothing could have been more dangerous than to open your mind even further to Voldemort while in my presence-"

"Snape made it worse, my scar always hurt worse after lessons with him-" Harry remembered Ron's thoughts on the subject and plunged on. "How do you know he wasn't trying to soften me up for Voldemort, make it easier for him to get inside my-"

"I trust Severus Snape," said Dumbledore simply. "But I forgot-another old man's mistake-that some wounds run to deep for the healing. I thought Professor Snape could overcome his feelings about your father-I was wrong." 

Furious, Harry found the thing that angered him most about his disagreeable teacher. 

"Snape-Snape g-goaded Sirius about staying in the house-he made out Sirius was a coward! Sirius might not have left Grimmauld Pl-"

"Sirius is much too old and clever to have allowed such feeble taunts hurt him," said Dumbledore. "And Sirius left the house for another reason. . . ."

"What do you mean?" Harry said more steadily than he felt. 

"The house-elf Kreacher, I am afraid, has been serving more than one master for months." 

"How?" said Harry blankly. His ire for Snape was fading quickly from his mind. "He hasn't been out of Grimmauld Place for years." 

"Kreacher seized his opportunity shortly before Christmas," said Dumbledore, "when Sirius, apparently, shouted at him to 'get out.' He took Sirius at his word and interpreted this an order to leave the house. He went to the only Black family member for who he had any respect left. . . . Sirius' cousin Narcissa, sister of Bellatrix and wife of Lucius Malfoy."

"How do you know all this?" Harry said. His heart was beating very fast. He felt sick. He remembered worrying about Kreacher's odd absence over Christmas, remembered him turning up again in the attic. . . . 

"Kreacher told me last night," said Dumbledore. "You see, when you gave Professor Snape that cryptic warning, he realized that you had had a vision of Sirius trapped in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries. He, like you, attempted to contact Sirius at once. I should explain that members of the Order of the Phoenix have more reliable methods of communicating than the fire in Dolores Umbridge's office. Professor Snape found Sirius was not there, he was lucky to find that Alastor Moody, Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Remus Lupin were at headquarters when he made contact. All agreed to go your aid at once. Professor Snape meant to remain behind but left, Kreacher, bound to the house, while he, Professor Snape, searched the forest for you."

Dumbledore heaved a great sigh and then said. "And so it was that when I arrived in Grimmauld Place shortly after they had all left for the Ministry, it was the elf who told me-laughing fit to burst-where Sirius and the Order members had gone."

"He was laughing?" said Harry in a hollow voice. 

"Oh yes," said Dumbledore. "You see, Kreacher was not able to betray us totally. He is not Secret-Keeper for the Order, he could not give the Malfoys our whereabouts or tell them any of the Order's confidential plans that he had been forbidden to reveal. He was bound by the enchantments of his kind, which is to say that he could not disobey a direct order from his master, Sirius. But he gave Narcissa information of the sort that is very valuable to Voldemort, yet must have seemed much too trivial for Sirius to think of banning him from revealing it." 

"Like what?" said Harry. 

"Like the fact that the person Sirius cared most about in the world was you," said Dumbledore quietly. "Like the fact that you were coming to regard Sirius as a mixture of father and brother. Voldemort knew already, of course, that Sirius was in the Order that you knew where he was-but Kreacher's information made him realize that the people the two of you would to any lengths to rescue is each other. Voldemort decided to take Sirius rather than you because he believed you to be much harder to get out from under the eyes of the Hogwarts teachers."

Harry's lips were cold and numb. 

"So . . . how _did_ he get Sirius out-out of G-Grimmauld Place?"

"Voldemort played a sequence of your screaming for help from him," said Dumbledore, his voice near a whisper. "Only he could hear them. The words that Sirius believed to be yours told the story of how you had got there. He rushed outside in his dog form and was almost immediately Stunned. When Kreacher saw that his master was captured, he closed the door and went to greet you and keep others away from the house."

There seemed to be very little air in Harry's lungs, his breathing was quick and shallow. 

"And Kreacher told you all this . . . and laughed?" he croaked. 

"He did not wish to tell me," said Dumbledore. "But I am a sufficiently accomplishments Legilimens myself to know when I am being lied to and I-persuaded him-to tell me the full story, before I left for the Department of Mysteries."

Something possessed Harry to look at the clock. It was five minutes until seven o'clock. 

"When will you take me to Sirius?" Harry demanded. 

"I have not finished," said Dumbledore. 

"How long is it going to take?" Harry shouted. He leapt his feet. How could Dumbledore do this to him? What if Sirius died before he got there? What would happen to him? Who would be his godfather? If only he could tell Sirius how much he cared! He was suddenly aware of how little he'd thanked him . . . how little he'd told his godfather that he loved him . . . He was shaking, glowering at his headmaster. 

"Sirius _needs_ me . . . I _must_ see him. . . . I can't leave him . . . he was there for me . . ."

Dumbledore closed his eyes and buried his face in his long-fingered hands. Harry watched him, but his uncharacteristic sign of exhaustion, or sadness, or whatever it was from Dumbledore, did not soften him. On the contrary, he felt even angrier that Dumbledore was showing signs of weakness. He had no business being weak when Harry wanted to rage and storm at him. 

Dumbledore lowered his hands and surveyed Harry through his half-moon glasses. 

"It is time," he said, "for me to tell you what I should have told you five years ago, Harry. Please sit down. I am going to tell you everything. I ask only a little patience. You will have your change to rage at me-to do whatever you like-" looked into Harry's eyes. "I _will_ take you to Sirius-when I have finished."

Harry glared at him for a moment, then flung himself back into the chair opposite Dumbledore and waited. Dumbledore stared for a moment at the sunlit grounds outside the window, then looked back at Harry and said, "Five years ago you arrived at Hogwarts, Harry, safe and whole, as I had planned and intended. Well-not quite whole. You had suffered. I knew you would when I left you on your aunt and uncle's doorstep. I knew I was condemning you to ten dark and difficult years."

He paused. Harry said nothing. 

"You might ask-and with good reason-why it had to be so. Why could some Wizarding family not have taken you in? many would have done so more than gladly, would have been honored and delighted to raise you as a son.

"My answer is that my priority was to keep you alive. You were in more danger than perhaps anyone but myself realized. Voldemort had been vanquished hours before, but his supporters-and many of them are almost as terrible as he-were still at large, angry, desperate, and violent. And I had to make decision too with regard to the years ahead. Did I believe Voldemort was gone forever? No. I knew not whether it would be ten, twenty, or fifty years before he returned, but I was sure that he would do so, and I was sure too, knowing him as I had done, that he would not rest until he killed you. 

"I knew that Voldemort's knowledge of magic is perhaps more extensive than any wizard alive. I knew that even my most complex and powerful protective spells and charms were unlikely to be invincible if he ever returned to full power. 

"But I knew too where Voldemort was weak. And so I made my decision. You would be protected by an ancient magic of which he knows, which he despises, and which he has always, therefore, underestimated-to his cost. I am speaking, of course, of the face that your mother died to save you. She gave you a lingering protection he never expected, a protection that flows in your veins to this day. I put my trust, therefore, in your mother's blood. I delivered you to her sister, her only remaining relative."

"She doesn't love me," said Harry at once. "She doesn't give a damn-"

"But she took you," Dumbledore cut across him. "She may have taken you grudgingly, furiously, unwillingly, bitterly, yet still she took you, and in doing so, she sealed the charm I placed upon you. Your mother's sacrifice made the bond of blood the strongest shield I could give you."

"I still don't-"

"While you can still call home the place where your mother's blood dwells, there you cannot be touched or harmed by Voldemort. He shed her blood, but it lives on in you and her sister. Her blood became your refuge. You need return there only once a year, but as long as you can still call it home, there he cannot hurt you. Your aunt knows. I explained what I had done in the letter I left, with you, on her doorstep. She knows that allowing you houseroom may well have kept you alive for the past fifteen years."

"Wait," said Harry. "Wait a moment." 

He sat up straighter in his chair, staring at Dumbledore. 

"You sent that Howler. You told her to remember-it was your voice-"

"I thought," said Dumbledore, inclining his head slightly, "that she might need reminding of the pact she had sealed by taking you. I suspected the dementor attack might have awoken her to the dangers of having you as a surrogate son."

"It did," said Harry quietly. "Well-my uncle more than her. He wanted to chuck me out, but after the Howler came she-she said I had to stay." He stared at the floor for a moment, then said, "But what's this got to do with Sirius?"

"Five years ago, then," continued Dumbledore, as though he had not paused in his story, "you arrived at Hogwarts, neither as happy nor as well nourished as I would have liked, perhaps, yet alive and healthy. You were not a pampered little prince, but as normal a boy as I could have hoped under the circumstances. Thus far, my plan was working well.

"And then . . . well, you remember the events of your first year at Hogwarts quite as clearly as I do. You rose magnificently to the challenge that faced you, and sooner-much sooner-than I had anticipated, you found yourself face-to-face with Voldemort. You survived again. You did more. You delayed his return to full power and strength. You fought a man's fight. I was . . . prouder of you than I can say. 

"Yet there was a flaw in this wonderful plan of mine," said Dumbledore. "An obvious flaw that I knew, even then, might be the undoing of it all. And yet, knowing how important it was that my should succeed, I told myself that I would not permit this flaw to ruin it. I alone could prevent this, so I alone must be strong. And here was my first test, as you lay in the hospital wing, weak from your struggle with Voldemort."

"I don't understand what you're saying," said Harry.

"Don't you remember asking me, as you laying hospital wing, why Voldemort had tried to kill you when you were a baby?"

Harry nodded. 

"Ought I to have told you then?"

Harry stared into the blue eyes and said nothing, but his heart was racing again. 

"You do not see the flaw in my plan yet? No . . . perhaps not. Well, as you know, I decided not to answer you. Eleven, I told myself, was much too young to know. I had never intended to tell you when you were eleven. The knowledge would be too much at such a young age. 

"I should have recognized the danger signs then. I should have asked myself why I did not feel more disturbed that you had already asked me the question to which I knew, one day, I must give a terrible answer. I should have recognized that I was too happy to think that I did not have to do it on that particular day. . . . You were too young, much too young. 

"And so we entered your second year at Hogwarts. And once again you met challenges even grown wizards have never faced. Once again you acquitted yourself beyond my wildest dreams. You did not ask me again, however, why Voldemort had left that mark upon you. We discussed your scar, of yes. . . . We came, very, very close to the subject. Why did I not tell you everything?

"Well, it seemed to me that twelve was, after all, hardly better than eleven to receive such information. I allowed you to leave my presence, bloodstained, exhausted but exhilarated, and if I felt a twinge of unease that I ought, perhaps, have told you then, it was swiftly silenced. You still so young, you see, and I could not find it in me to spoil that night of triumph. . . ."

"Do you see, Harry? Do you see the flaw in my brilliant plan now? I had fallen into the trap I had foreseen, that I had told myself I could avoid, that I must avoid."

"I don't-"

"I cared about you too much," said Dumbledore simply. "I cared more for your happiness than your knowing the truth, more for your peace of mind than my plan, more for your life the lives that might be lost if the plan failed. In other words, I acted exactly as Voldemort expects we fools who love act.

"Is there a defense? I defy anyone who has watched you as I have-and I have watched you more closely than you can have imagined-not to want to save you more pain than you have already suffered. What did I care if numbers of nameless and faceless people and creatures were slaughtered in the vague future, if in the here and now you were alive, and well, and happy? I never dreamed that I would have such a person on my hands. 

"We entered your third year. I watched you from afar as you struggled to repel dementors, as you found Sirius, learned what he was and rescued him. Was I to tell you then, at the moment when you had triumphantly snatched your godfather from the jaws of the Ministry? But now, at the age of thirteen, my excuses were running out. Young you might be, but you proved you were exceptional. My conscience was uneasy, Harry. I knew the time must come soon. . . .

"But you came out of the maze last year, having watched Cedric Diggory die, having escaped death so nearly yourself . . . and I did not tell you, though I knew, now that Voldemort had return, I must it soon. And now, tonight, I know you have long been ready for the knowledge I have kept from you for so long, because you have proved that I should have placed the burden upon you before this. May only defense is this: I have watched you struggling under more burdens than any student who had ever passed through this school, and I could not brink myself to add another-the greatest of all."

Harry waited, but Dumbledore did not speak. 

"I still don't understand."

"Voldemort tried to kill you when you were a child because of a prophecy made shortly before your birth. He knew the prophecy had been made, through he did not know its full contents. He set out to kill you when you were still a baby, believing his was fulfilling the terms of the prophecy. He discovered, to his cost, that he was mistaken, when the curse he intended to kill you backfired. And so, since his return to his body, and particularly since your extraordinary escape from him last year, he had been determined to hear that prophecy in its entirety. This is the weapon he has been seeking so assiduously since he return: the knowledge of how to destroy you."

The sun had risen fully now. Dumbledore's office was bathed in it. The glass case in which the sword of Godric Gryffindor resided gleamed white and opaque, with the fragments of the instruments Harry had thrown to the floor glistened like raindrops, and behind him, the baby Fawkes made soft chirruping noises in his nest of ashes.

"The prophecy's smashed," Harry said blankly. "I was pulling Neville up those benches in the-the room where the archway was, and I ripped his robes and it fell. . . ."

"The thing that smashed was merely the record of the prophecy kept by the Department of Mysteries. But the prophecy was made to somebody, and that person has the means of recalling it perfectly."

"Who heard it?" asked Harry, though he thought he knew the answer already. 

"I did," said Dumbledore. "On a cold, wet night sixteen years ago, in a room above the bar at the Hog's Head Inn. I had gone there to see an applicant for the post of Divination teacher, though it was against my inclination to allow the subject of Divination to continue at all. The applicant, however, was the great-great-granddaughter of a very famous, very gifted Seer, and I thought it common politeness to meet her. I was disappointed. It seed to me that she had not a trace of the gift herself. I told her, courteously I hope, that I did not think she would be suitable for the post. I turned to leave." 

Dumbledore got to his feet and walked past Harry to the black cabinet that stood beside Fawkes' perch. He bent down, slid back a catch, and took from inside it a shallow stone basin, carved with runes around the edges, in which Harry had seen his father tormenting Snape. Dumbledore walked back to the desk, placed the Pensieve upon it, and raised his wand to his own temple. From it, he withdrew silvery, gossamer-find shards of thought clinging to the wand, and deposited them in the basin. He sat back down behind his desk and watched his thoughts swirl and drift inside the Pensieve for a moment. Then, with a sigh, he raised his wand and prodded the silvery substance with its tip. 

A figure rose out of it, draped in shawls, her eyes magnified to enormous size behind her glasses, and she revolved slowly, her feet in the basin. But when Sibyll Trelawney spoke, it was not in her usual ethereal, mystic voice, but in the harsh, hoarse tones Harry had heard her use once before. 

"THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APPROACHES. ... BORN TO THOS WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES ... AND THE DARK LORD WILL MARK HIM AS HIS EQUAL, BUT HE WILL HAVE POWER THE DARK LORD KNOWS NOT ... AND EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER FOR NEITHER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES. ... THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD WILL BE BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES. ..." 

The slowly revolving Professor Trelawney sank back into the silver mass below and vanished. 

The silence within the office was absolute. Neither Dumbledore nor Harry nor any of the portraits made a sound. Even Fawkes had fallen silent. 

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry said very quietly, for Dumbledore, still staring at the Pensieve, seemed completely lost in thought. "It . . . did that mean . . . What did that mean?"

"It meant," said Dumbledore, "that the person who has the only chance of conquering Lord Voldemort for good was born at the end of July, nearly sixteen years ago. This boy would be born to parents who had already defied Voldemort three times."

Harry felt as though something was closing in upon him. His breathing seemed difficult again. 

"It means-me?"

Dumbledore surveyed him for a moment through his glasses. 

"The odd thing is, Harry," he said softly, "that it may not have meant you at all. Sibyll's prophecy could have applied to two wizard boys, bother born at the end of July that year, bother of who had parents in the Order of the Phoenix, both sets of parents having narrowly escaped Voldemort three times. One, of course, was you. The other was Neville Longbottom."

"But then . . . but then, why was it my name on the prophecy and not Neville's?"

"The official record was relabeled after Voldemort's attack on you as a child," said Dumbledore. "It seemed plain to the keeper of the Hall of Prophecy that Voldemort could only have tried to kill you because he knew you to be the one to whom Sibyll was referring."

"Then-it might not be me?" said Harry. 

"I am afraid," said Dumbledore slowly, looking as though every word cost him great effort, "that there is no doubt that it _is_ you." 

"But you said-Neville was born at the end of July too-and his mum and dad-"

"You are forgetting the next part of the prophecy, the final identifying feature of the boy who could vanquish Voldemort. . . . Voldemort himself would 'mark him as his equal.' And he did so, Harry. He chose you, not Neville. He gave you the scar that has proved both a blessing and a curse."

"But he might have chosen wrong!" said Harry. "He might have marked the wrong person!" 

"He chose the boy he thought most likely to be a danger to him," said Dumbledore. "And notice this, Harry. He chose, not the pureblood (which, according to his creed, is the only kind of wizard worth being or knowing), but the half-blood, like himself. He saw himself in you before he had ever seen you, and in marking you with that scar, he did not kill you, as he intended, but gave you powers, and a future, which have fitted you to escaped him not once, but four times so far-something neither your parents, nor Neville's parents, ever achieved."

"Why did he do it, then?" said Harry, who felt numb and cold. "Why did he try and kill me as a baby? He should have waited to see whether Neville or I looked more dangerous when we were older and tried to kill whoever it was then-"

"That might, indeed, have been the more practical course," said Dumbledore, "except that Voldemort's information about the prophecy was incomplete. The Hog's Head Inn, which Sibyll chose for its cheapness, has long attracted, shall we say, a more interesting clientele than the Three Broomsticks. As you and your friends found out at your cost, and I to mine that night, it is a place where it is never safe to assume you are not being overheard. Of course, I had not dreamed, when I set out to meet Sibyll Trelawney, that I would hear anything worth overhearing. My-our-one stroke of good fortune was that the eavesdropper was detected only a short way into the prophecy and thrown from the building."

"So he only heard . . .?"

"He heard only the first part, the part foretelling the birth of a boy in July to parents who had thrice defied Voldemort. Consequently, he not warn his master that to attack you would be to risk transferring power to you-again marking you as his equal. So Voldemort never knew that there might be danger in attacking you, that it might be wise to wait or to learn more. He did not know that you would have 'power the Dark Lord knows not'-"

"But I don't!" said Harry in a strangled voice. "I haven't any powers he hasn't got, I couldn't fight the way he did tonight, I can't possess people or-or kill them-"

"There is a room in the Department of Mysteries," interrupted Dumbledore, "that is kept locked at all times. It contains a force that is at once more wonder and more terrible than death, than human intelligence, than forces or nature. It is also, perhaps, the most mysterious of the many subjects for study that reside there. it is the power held within that room that you possess in such quantities and which Voldemort has not at all. That power took you to save Sirius tonight. That power also saved you from possession by Voldemort, because he could not bear to reside in a body so full of the force he detests. In the end, it mattered not that you could not close your mind. It was your heart that saved you."

Harry could not quite understand what this meant. He asked, "The end of the prophecy . . . it was something about ... '_neither can live _...'" 

"' ... _while the other survives_,'" said Dumbledore. 

"So," said Harry, "so does that mean that ... one of us has got to kill the other one . . . in the end?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore. 

For a long time, neither of them spoke. Somewhere far beyond the office walls, Harry could hear the sound of voices, students heading down to the Great Hall for an early breakfast, perhaps. It seemed impossible that there could be people in the world who still desired food, who laughed, who neither knew nor cared that Sirius Black might be dead . . . that he could leave forever in mere minutes-seconds. 

"I feel I owe you another explanation, Harry," said Dumbledore hesitantly. "You may, perhaps, have wondered why I never chose you as a prefect? I must confess . . . that I rather thought . . . you had enough responsibility to be going on with."

Harry looked up at him and saw a tear trickling down Dumbledore's face into his long silver beard. 

"As I have promised," he said, rather thickly, "I will take you to Sirius. Please go find Ginny Weasley. I think you may need someone with you." 

**Author's Note: Next Chapter: Healing**

**I didn't want to kill Sirius in this chapter, so, if I get a strange impulse to kill, I may do it in the next chapter, but probably not. You'll see a lot of Ginny next chapter. **

**I have a group called the If Only Universe There are few people in the group and no posts so far. So, please join. You can ask questions and everything if you like. I'll respond. **

**Please Review!! However, my note on this is a plea not to get any more "don't kill Sirius" reviews. I'm not telling you not to say it at all, but please don't review and let that be all you say. You can tell me that you hate me, or whatever you like, but please no one line reviews saying not to kill Sirius! But I _do_ like reviews. They make my day! REVIEW******

PS I'm doing a sequal!!! It'll be up in spring (I hope) and It'll be called If Only for Now. 


	4. Healing

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Summary: 

What if Rookwood hadn't gotten Voldemort onto the right track? What if Voldemort really _had _kidnapped Sirius and taken him to the Department of Mysteries? Would the outcome of the Battle be the same? Or would Sirius still be alive?

**If Only**

**Chapter Four: Healing **

Ginny and Harry slammed into the ground. Ginny lost her footing but Harry only fell against the wall. He clutched it for a few seconds. Then he pulled Ginny up by grabbing her under the arms. Once the two had steadied themselves, they looked around. They were standing in Sirius' grim, drear kitchen. There seemed to have been a big commotion in here hours before and no one had cleaned up. Rolls of parchment lay forgotten across the table, and chairs were overturned and on the ground, as though someone had leapt hurriedly from their seat and not bothered to be careful. Last summer, Harry would have quickly unrolled the scrolls of parchment and inspected them, but now he only wanted to see his godfather. 

They bolted up the stairs, but before Harry could touch the doorknob, Mrs. Weasley opened the door. She flung herself upon Harry and her daughter and began to sob. Harry felt himself going cold and numb again. Was Sirius gone? He couldn't be . . . 

"Oh, Harry, Ginny," she cried, her shoulders shaking and nearly causing them to tumble down the stairs. "You—oh—when I found out—I thought I'd—oh, I love you two so much!" 

Harry, through all of his horror, felt truly touched by this. Ginny was hugging her mother back and he put an arm around her too. 

"We're all right, Mrs. Weasley," he said reassuringly. "Really!"

"I—oh, Harry!" she hugged them tighter. "Sirius . . ." she straightened; eyes were still glistening. "You must have been so worried. C—c-come with me. I'll take you upstairs. He's alive."

"How is he?" asked Ginny, seeing that Harry could do little more than open his mouth, take a breath and then close it again. 

"He's breathing. ..." she answered, rather simply and almost cautiously. She did not speak again until they reached the landing where most of the Order members who'd stayed at Grimmauld Place had slept during the summer. She led them into the room right next to Sirius'. Harry was sure that he was going to find Sirius lying on the bed, turning his head to smile . . . maybe he'd even laugh his bark-like laugh at the idea of Harry worrying so much. But he only found a large bed with a purple fire glowing in the hearth. 

"You can wait here," she said quietly. "Don't worry about messing it up. No one sleeps in here."

"But Sirius—" stammered Harry. "I thought—can't I see—"

"You can't go in there right now," she explained in a constricted voice. "Emmeline Vance and Hestia Jones are going to come and try to help. We all know a small something about healing."

"Is—is Lupin—where is he?" 

"With Sirius," she replied quietly. "I need to go now, dear. I have to help. I'll tell you when you can come in. ..."

She left, closing the door behind her. Harry knew, after he heard the door of Sirius' bedroom close too, that she'd locked it. Ginny already had her ear against the wall. 

"It's no use," she said despairingly, "the walls are too thick! And we have no extendable ears. But even if we did ... it might distract them from—Harry ... are you all right?"

For Harry had just kicked the bedpost. 

"Harry?"

He sunk onto the bed, his head in his hands. "I'm—I'm f-fine. ..."

"No you're not," said Ginny sympathetically. "Of course your not! But—but Harry—Sirius is going to be fine! If he can survive those awful dementors for twelve years, then—then certainly he can survive this!"

"You didn't hear him stop breathing for those moments, though," said Harry. "I thought he'd died. He's—he's never looked so bad!"

"He'll be okay!" whispered Ginny. "He really will!" 

"I know he's—I know he's strong but I just—I'm just worried," Harry tried to say, but there was something wrong with his throat. He suddenly wished he was back shouting at Dumbledore in the head's office. 

They were silent for a long time. The sound of the door closing downstairs and two new women's voices was coming up through the walls. It stuck Harry as odd that the walls of Grimmauld Place were thin enough to hear what was going on floors below, but too thick to hear what was going on in the room next door.  

They heard the door open next door. Mrs. Weasley's voice floated through their own door. 

"Oh, my goodness!" she exclaimed. "I'm so glad you've come! It's been all we could do to keep him alive!"

Harry couldn't breathe; his knees were trembling. Ginny's hand was on his shoulder. He felt dizzy. _Sirius . . ._

"Oh . . ." Hestia's voice said, slightly surprised. "Oh . . . I—I'm sure we can heal this. . . ."

No relief came to him. Harry just stood rooted to the spot, unable to think of anything but Sirius. _How bad was it? _Hestia's voice didn't sound reassuring.

Ginny had curled up against the pillows and was hugging her knees, resting her head on her arms. Her eyes were focusing on the violet fire with a vaguely glazed look, though they were a very wide, a faint crease, not unlike Lupin's, in her eyebrows. Harry recognized how tired she looked. However, _he_ wasn't remotely sleepy. 

They spent many long, endless hours with Harry pacing around the room, Ginny staring, sometimes watching him with mild interest and looking very much like Luna Lovegood. After a while Harry grew unwillingly exhausted as the weight of the night's events pressed upon his aching muscles. 

He sat down upon the ground. 

"Ten-thirty," said Ginny quietly, her voice somewhat weak. She closed her eyes and yawned. 

As Harry watched her drift off to sleep, be found his own eyelids growing heavy. The warmth of the fire finally washed over him and he fell gently into nothingness. ... 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Sirius!" he cried. 

Harry was running. Running down a long dark hallway. The familiar torches were now eyes, glaring down at him. Hands were holding him back as he watched Sirius' dark, moaning form writhe on the ground. The more he tried to get to his godfather, the longer the passage became. And the faster he tried to run, the slower he seemed to become.

"_Sirius_! SIRIUS!" 

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Harry jumped back into consciousness. He had a blanket around his shoulders, but he had no memory of it getting there. He turned to see Ginny still sleeping. She was now sprawled across the bed, breathing softly. Harry suddenly had a strange suspicion as to how the blanket around his shoulders had got there. Ginny curled into ball again without waking up and Harry gazed glassily into the fire. He thought of absolutely nothing, not even noticing the time, until the door opened softly and Ginny woke with a start. 

"You can go in, Harry," said Mrs. Weasley as she stood in the doorway. "Ginny ... you should get to bed. You can see Sirius later." 

Ginny nodded and jumped off the bed. Mrs. Weasley led her daughter downstairs with an arm around her and left Harry to go into his godfather's bedroom. He got to his feet, leaving the blanket and warmth to enter the cold and constantly dusty hallway. He stood outside Sirius' door for a long moment; unsure he really wanted to see what was behind it. But some unknown brand of courage stirred inside him and he put his hand on the doorknob and turned it. 

Sirius lay on the bed, his chest rising and falling almost steadily. His closed eyes were heavily shadowed and his battered face was no longer as beaten as before. His leg was in a much better splint and his arm in a sling. Hestia and Emmeline filed past him, yawning, and casting furtive glances at Harry. 

The debris of many potions scattered the floor and bedside table. Lupin was sitting by the bed, an expression of deepest concern on his face. Harry knew at once that Sirius was still unconscious. 

"Hello, Harry," said Lupin quietly. 

"Is he—how is he?" Harry choked.

"He hasn't woken up," Lupin told him. "I'm afraid—" he paused. "He might—there's a possibility that he might—_not_ wake up. ..." 

Harry, of course, had expected this, but he didn't expect how many times this morning he would find it hard to breathe! 

"How long has he been like this?" he asked. 

"A while," said Lupin. "Th-there isn't much we can do at the moment. ..."

Harry had never heard Lupin's voice this unsteady. It was as though someone was strumming on his vocal cords as he struggled to speak. The next hour or so was spent in silence. Lupin changed his position slightly every so often and Harry tried to lick his lips once in a while, only to find out how dry his tongue and lips really were. Another hour passed and Mrs. Weasley came in to give them tea and place a hot washcloth on Sirius' forehead. She left without a word, an expression on her face that said all too clearly that if she opened her mouth, she might burst into tears. 

Harry watched his godfather sadly. He would have given anything so that Sirius would not be lying there so ill on the bed. Lupin was looking up at the ceiling, blinking hard. Harry looked away, he could not bear to think what Lupin was thinking: what would they do if they lost Sirius? 

Gripping Sirius' hand in his own, he laid down his head and closed his eyes. He willed Sirius to be okay. He concentrated with his entire mind and body to make Sirius well and hoped somehow it might work. But when he opened his eyes, Sirius was still unconscious. Lupin had his head in his hands. 

Harry closed his eyes again. He thought of everything good that Sirius was; everything that he loved about him. He was beginning to slip away again when he felt something press on the palm of his hand and heard a faint rustle. He opened his eyes in time to see Sirius' face twitch and heard him moan. 

"Sirius!" Harry and Lupin exclaimed at the same time. 

Sirius' eyes fluttered slowly open. He stared at Lupin first, squeezed his hand and then his gaze fell upon Harry. 

He coughed slightly and breathed, "Harry?"

"Sirius . . ." Harry tried to answer. His throat did not seem to want to listen to his commands of speech. 

"Where am I?" his godfather croaked hoarsely. He was scanning the room with his eyes but no recognition came to them. 

"You're back at Grimmauld Place, Sirius," Lupin told him. 

Something frantic crossed Sirius' features. He made a motion as if to rise. "How—the Death E—" 

"It's taken care of, Padfoot,' said Lupin lightly, placing his hand needlessly onto his friend's shoulder so as to prevent him from sitting up.

"What . . . happened?" Sirius murmured, his voice still hoarse. 

"You remember being cursed?" Harry asked, unsticking his throat. 

Sirius nodded slightly. 

"You stopped breathing," Lupin told him after a moment. "I was able to revive you, obviously, and then you saw Dumbledore," Sirius nodded again with difficulty, "but Harry thought you we dead!" Sirius' head rolled on the pillow and his haunted eyes set themselves on Harry. Harry nodded, his eyes beginning to burn and the idea of losing Sirius. 

Lupin told him everything that had happened but made eye contact briefly with Harry before telling _very_ quickly of his encounter with Voldemort. Sirius seemed to want to say something but didn't have the strength. When they were finished, he clasped Harry's hand for a long time before he fell into a light sleep. 

Harry left, closing the door softly behind him with Lupin at his side. He'd stayed in the room for a moment to "do something." 

"Arabella will come up to look after him in a moment," he said to Harry. "He needs to sleep though."

Harry tried to say something in reply but his voice was lost in his throat. He was not heartened by Sirius' regain of consciousness but was filled with worry that if Sirius should die in the time between then and their next visit, he would not have said the goodbye he'd been aching to say. 

"Sirius has been in worse shape than this before, Harry," said Lupin reassuringly. "He'll pull through!"

They headed down stairs. 

Harry found Mrs. Weasley cooking what looked like soup when he came in and smelled beef. 

"Hello, Harry, Remus," she said quietly, sounding like she had a head cold. "How is he?"

"He woke up," Lupin to her. "He's sleeping now and I contacted Arabella to come and look after him."

"Where's Ginny?" Harry asked. 

"She's sleeping upstairs," Mrs. Weasley told him. "You should go up and sleep too, Harry. You look peaky." 

Harry left obediently; he didn't want to talk to people at the moment. He headed upstairs and settled himself in the room he and Ron had shared during the summer and winter holidays. He tried to close his eyes, but it was no use. He was so tired, but his mind would not agree to sleep, not with Sirius so ill overhead. But he felt himself fall unwillingly into the dreamless sleep of absolute exhaustion. . . . .

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"Harry? Harry get up!" 

"Noooo!" Harry groaned into the pillow. The bed was warmer and more comfortable than he could remember it being last summer. 

"C'mon Harry," said Ginny's voice, which was almost comical. "Mum said that she _orders_ you to come eat dinner!"

"Orders me, eh?" Harry muttered as he sat up, disentangling himself from pillows and blankets. 

Ginny giggled. "I think that she thinks just because we fought the Death Eaters and all, that we're starved too!"

"Well, how long has it been since we ate?" asked Harry. 

"That's not the point!" scoffed Ginny, her eyes twinkling. 

"What is it then?"

She threw up her hands in disgust. "Harry, it was a jo—you're so—so—"

"What's taking you two so long?" asked Fred, who stood in the doorway. He was wearing a bright green, scaly jacket. There were two trunks floating behind them. Fred sent his away to Ginny's room, while Fred swept his into the room.

"Fred! George!" cried Ginny. Obviously she hadn't seen her brothers come in. "You—how's business?"

"Booming!" cried George, bounding into the room. "We had to treat ourselves." He gestured to the jacket.

"Heard you got yourselves into a bit of trouble while we were gone," said Fred, letting the trunk fall onto Harry's bed.

"Children after our own hearts," said George proudly, placing his hand over his own. Harry didn't reply. 

"Dinner!" rang Mrs. Weasley's voice up the stairs.

"So how's Sirius?" asked Fred, rather seriously as the group exited. 

"He woke up," Harry told him. "He's still really ill though."

"So we've heard," said George, uncharacteristically solemn.

Mrs. Weasley was setting the table when they entered. Also, there four people sitting at it. Kingsley was scribbling quickly on a long roll of parchment in dark purple ink, while Dung tried unsuccessfully to sneak his pipe from under his cloak. As Mrs. Weasley began to scold him like a child, Harry looked at Emmeline Vance, who was laying plates before everyone. Moody was drinking deeply from his hip flask. 

"'Lo," said Dung, as Mrs. Weasley walked away, fuming. 

"Hi Dung," said Fred brightly, walking over to him.

"Don't start talking about Weasley's Wizard Wheezes now!" cried Mrs. Weasley. 

Obviously she was still furious that her sons had quit school to start a joke shop, but she seemed resigned to the fact that there was nothing she could do to stop them. The topic did not come up again that night. They were having stew again tonight. He was glad of this. He wasn't sure he could get anything else to go down his throat. 

Lupin walked in.

"Does he want any?" asked Mrs. Weasley. "Can he . . ."

"No," Lupin told her. "Says he just wants to sleep."

Harry had never even _heard _of Sirius saying anything like this. He looked down at his soup. Suddenly, he felt like he was trying to eat mud. Lupin put a hand on his shoulder. 

Harry didn't remember what he did in reply, whether he grinned, or simply tried to take another gulp of soup. They somehow got through dinner and Harry pushed his almost untouched dish away gratefully. Mrs. Weasley ordered that they go to bed again because if they didn't their sleeping cycles would be in disarray. Ginny and Harry departed with Fred and George, but were left alone after the twins Apparated to their bedrooms, cackling at something as they looked at the two students behind them. 

"They're always a bit odd," said Ginny. "Funny, but odd."

Harry agreed. They bid one another good night and separated into their rooms. Harry had barely laid down in bed when he was asleep, making up for his lack of dwelling on Sirius in his dreams, where he struggled to get to his godfather, but failed at each attempt, high-pitched laughter ringing in his ears. . . . 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He sat bold upright. He knew immediately that he would not be able to go back to sleep. He had to see Sirius. Harry took out the Weasley jumper he'd been given last Christmas. Pulling it on, he tiptoed into the drafty hallways of number twelve Grimmauld Place. He crept almost silently up the stairs and made it to the door dividing him and Sirius. He put his ear to the door and heard nothing. So, taking a deep breath, he opened the door. 

Harry had thought that Sirius was sleeping, but the moment the door closed behind him, he opened his eyes and turned his head slowly in Harry's direction. 

"Harry . . .?" he breathed. His voice was weak. 

"Sirius," Harry replied. "You—how are you feeling?"

"Felt better," Sirius admitted. 

He had a hand outstretched. Harry sat down on the bed and took it. Something was flickering across Sirius' face. 

"He told you . . .?" he whispered. 

"Yeah," said Harry. "Dumbledore told me everything."

"You want to . . .?" Sirius asked, not finishing his question, a crease between his eyebrows in concern for his godson. 

"No," Harry told him, almost flatly. "I—I came here to see you."

Sirius coughed. A grin spread slowly over his face. "Not . . . much to—see. . . ."

Harry looked down at the sheets, unsure how to voice his feelings and he didn't even know if he should. "I—Sirius, I was so worried about you!"

Those haunted, pale gray eyes gazed up at him, and the grin faded ever so slightly from Sirius' face. 

"Harry," he whispered. "I'm not going anywhere!"

Harry got up early the next morning, snuck into the kitchen and stole a few pieces of buttered toast. He went upstairs again to get dressed, but got an enormous shock to find three owls, each from Ron, Hermione (who said she was going to tell Luna) and Neville, all letters asking the same, one-lined question: _How's Snuffles?_

Some kind of warmth burned in Harry's heart and quill as he replied to Ron, telling him to tell the others that he and Ginny were fine and assured them that Sirius on the mend. After he sent off the owls, he shoved a considerable amount of toast into his mouth. Carrying what remained of his breakfast upstairs, Harry entered Sirius' room with renewed spirits. 

When he entered, he found Sirius propped up in bed on pillows and watching Mrs. Weasley rant at him with some interest. His godfather was still extraordinarily pale, and seemed more drained than he had last night, but he winked at Harry, who stood frozen by the door, the pieces of toast in his hand. It sounded like Mrs. Weasley had found Sirius sleeping in his dog form when she'd walked in. He couldn't see what was wrong with this before he heard pieces of her ramble. 

"Could have lost all of your strength!" she said, her voice close to yelling, but the sight of her _victim_ weakened in bed seemed to prompt Mrs. Weasley to control herself. "That takes too much magic! If you'd—you could have gotten worse—"

"But I'm fine, Molly!" said Sirius exasperatedly. "Besides, I can't sleep without it—"

"Just – drink some tea!" Mrs. Weasley puffed. Harry almost expected smoke to come out of her ears. 

She poured him a mug and Sirius drank, seemly relieved that the scolding had stopped. Harry sat down at the edge of his bed, grinning. Lupin was laughing at his friend's expense and Sirius scowled at him. Harry spent much of the day with Sirius, and Ginny came in at about midday. 

"How're you feeling, Sirius?" she asked, Fred and George following. 

"Fine," he answered. Everyone looked at him incredulously, including Harry. Sirius chuckled. "Better than last night, anyway." 

The day was definitely much happier than the previous one. They had some sandwiches made by Mrs. Weasley, but none of the adults were there except for Sirius, who didn't seem to be hungry anymore and was ordered to sleep. Their entire lunch was spent listening to the prosperity of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and how Dung's business was blossoming because of it. Harry and Ginny weren't sure if they should be happy about this until the three assured them that almost all of the things Dung was trading to them was legal. Almost. 

At sometimes in the day, it seemed impossible to Harry that he had fought off Death Eaters and encountered Voldemort less than forty-eight hours ago. There were many times when he was able to completely forget about the year's events and feel that he was spending the summer at Grimmauld Place. That is, until he received the one of funniest letters he'd gotten in his life.

_Dear Harry, _

_Dumbledore brought Umbridge back from the forest. She's in the hospital wing with us right now. I can write this letter a little more freely, but not really. Dumbledore said that I could write this. She's been lying there, brooding. Madam Pomfrey says that there's nothing physically wrong with her—it's just shock. But Ron, Luna, Neville and I know that she's just furious that we outsmarted her._

The writing had trembled here, as though Hermione had been laughing. 

_I don't know how Dumbledore did it. He just came out of the forest supporting Umbridge and didn't say anything to anyone. We even asked him, but he said that he had to get back to his study. If he comes to London, make sure and ask him. Is Snuffles doing better? He must still be ill. Neville said that he got hit with the same curse I did, and with everything else that happened to him. I mean, Neville said that the got thrown against a wall! Tell him hi for us. Luna and Neville are worried about him too. _

_By the way, Ron is making these clip clopping noises at Umbridge. He's doing it now._

The writing was trembling slightly again. Harry began to chuckle.

_Every time he does it, she sits up and starts making a fuss. She thinks it's the centaurs! I can't imagine them torturing her or anything, but I hope it was really awful! I hope to see you soon. If you're not here by the end of the year, I'll see you at you know where. _

_Hermione_

_PS Ron's doing it again!_

Harry handed the letter around the table and everyone began to laugh. 

"What's so funny?" asked Lupin, coming into the kitchen, obviously having finished whatever he'd gone out to do. 

They gave him the letter and some sort of victory flashed across his face. 

"I was wondering what he was doing," he said after a while. 

"You went to Hogwarts?" asked Fred in astonishment. 

"To get some potions for Sirius," said Lupin. "Poppy—I mean—Madam Pomfrey is now a part of the Order. I successfully recruited her today. I was her patient enough for her to know me well."

"Did Hermione or Ron say anything?" Ginny asked. 

"They all say hello to all of you," answered Lupin. "And Ron was taunting Umbridge. I didn't have the slightest clue what he was doing until I read this letter!"

Harry laughed, imagining Ron and Umbridge. Lupin was rereading the letter. 

"You two don't need to go back to school," he said Ginny and Harry. "Dumbledore told to me to tell you that. The only thing is, Harry, that you'll have to go to the Dursley's for a week or two, just to see them." He gave Harry a meaningful stare. "Then we'll come and get you."

Harry felt himself agree. "Just for two weeks?" he asked. 

"Ten days," replied Lupin.

"Okay," he said. "Just as long as I don't have to spend my birthday with them."

"We'd object at that Harry," said Fred. Lupin grinned. 

Harry and Lupin headed upstairs to see if Sirius was sleeping or not to find him wide-awake and reading. Harry could tell that Lupin was fighting the impulse to ask his friend if he had slept at all. 

"How're you feeling?" Harry asked. 

"Much better," Sirius said. 

He sat upright without being supported by pillows but gasped and clutched his ribs. Harry and Lupin were already at his side. Sirius was trying feebly to sit up on one elbow. 

"Lay back, Padfoot," ordered Lupin. He laid a hand on Sirius' shoulder. 

"I'm fine, Mo—"

"Sirius."

Sirius did as he was told, but it wasn't like he had much choice. He slumped against his pillows. For about an hour, he was playfully moody. But the company made this rather difficult. Later, Fred and George entered, munching on sandwiches. 

Sirius gave an anxious glance around, looking for Mrs. Weasley, before he said, "How's the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes coming?" 

"Excellent," said Fred proudly. 

"Exceptional," said George. 

"Superb," said Fred. 

"Brilliant," exclaimed George.

"Marvelous," Fred said. 

"Tremendous," said George.

"Exquis—"

"We get the point," snapped Mrs. Weasley's voice. 

Sirius sank in his bed, Harry looked at his hands, Fred and George didn't seem to really care, Ginny hid her face behind her hand and Lupin smiled at her. 

"Hello Molly," he said cheerfully. 

But Mrs. Weasley seemed agitated. 

"What's up, Mum?" asked George. 

"It's ... nothing ..." she said, looking away. "I just came to check on Sirius. ..." 

"Thank you, Molly," said Sirius courteously. He seemed somewhat concerned, as though he knew something that the others didn't. A clue to why she was angry. And by the look of it, she didn't want him to know. 

After Mrs. Weasley left, Lupin looked at his friend. "You know something, Padfoot."

Sirius nodded glumly. He glanced at the Weasley children, who were watching him curiously. "Percy."

George's fists clenched, Fred's face screwed up in disgust and Ginny looked at the ground to hide her reaction, which Harry guessed was very much alike her brothers'. 

"She went to go talk to him," Sirius explained. "Since the news is out, she thought that it would be a good idea to try and make peace ... again." 

"_Why?_" growled George. 

"Yeah," said Fred. "He's done enough damage."

"How could do that stuff to Mum and Dad?" said Ginny in a small voice. George put an arm around her. 

"Look," said Lupin, rather quietly,  "I know you're angry at Percy—" Fred opened his mouth irritably, "and you have full right to be! But he _is_ your brother. I _know_ that you love him. That is probably one of the reasons you are so furious with him."

"It won't be easy to pardon him," added Sirius. "But, eventually, you will both see that you _do _care about each other and you _will_ find it in your hearts to forgive." 

The Weasley's were silent. 

"I'm still so mad at him!" confessed Ginny. 

Lupin crossed to put a hand on her shoulder. "We can all understand why. Like Sirius said, it won't be easy. But it will come in time." 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That night they ate another rich stew, in which Mrs. Weasley was not included. Dung showed up, along with Moody and Tonks. In fact, Sirius even had a bite or two. Harry went bed early with the rest. He could tell that, through the laughing and storytelling of Umbridge, the Weasley's were thinking about what Lupin and Sirius had said. 

Tonks accompanied them up to the first floor. She seemed much better than the last time Harry had seen her. She was grinning and the stairs were a breeze for her, except for the usual trip. Harry separated from them into his room. He laid down to the first night in a year of dreamless sleep. . . .

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"Harry!" someone was hitting him with a pillow. "Harry! Get up! You've got to come down stairs!" The person gave him one last whack. "Hurry!"

Harry got groggily out of bed, pulled on a jumper and flashed down the stairs after someone with bright red hair, whom he supposed to be Ginny. He arrived, panting in the kitchen. Moody was smiling at him and Tonks was helping Mrs. Weasley cook bacon, eggs, and toast. Fred and George were reading the newspaper with their heads together. They finished the moment Harry looked at them. 

"What is it?" he asked, wondering if this had been a rather creative way of getting him out of bed. 

Laughing, George threw the paper at him. Confused, but not for long, Harry read the addition of the Sunday Prophet. 

HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED RETURNS 

In brief statement Friday night, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge confirms that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned to this country and is active once more. 

"It is with great regret that I must confirm that the wizard styling himself, Lord—well, you know who I mean—is alive and among us again," said Fudge, looking tired and flustered as he addressed reporters. "It is with almost equal regret that we report the mass revolt of the dementors of Azkaban, who have shown themselves averse to continuing in the Ministry's employ. We believe that the dementors are currently taking direction from Lord—Thingy."__

            "We urge the magical population to remain vigilant. The Ministry is currently publishing guides to elementary home and personal defense that will be delivered free to all Wizarding homes within the coming month."

            The Minister's statement was met with dismay and alarm from the Wizarding community, which was recently as last Wednesday was receiving Ministry assurances that there was "no truth whatsoever in these persistent rumors that You-Know-Who is operating amongst us once more."

Details of the events that led to the Ministry turnaround are still hazy, thought it is believed that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and a select band of followers (known as Death Eaters) gained entry into the Ministry itself on Thursday evening. 

Albus Dumbledore, newly reinstated headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, reinstated member of the International Confederation of Wizards and reinstated Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, was unavailable for comment last night. He has insisted for a year that You-Know-Who was not dead, as was widely hoped and believed, but recruiting followers once more for a fresh attempt to seize power. Meanwhile, the Boy Who Lived— 

Harry laughed too. "I was wondering if they were going to mention me!"

"Yes," said George. "You're a right little hero in there."

"Not a madman!" Harry spluttered through cracking ribs. He didn't know why this was so funny. He would have given anything for this article last week, but now, it really didn't seem to matter. He was content. 

"What's so funny?" said a gruff voice behind him. 

The whole room turned to see Sirius, leaning heavily on Lupin, smiling widely at him. Moody jumped to pull out a chair and help him sit down next to Harry, who handed him the paper. 

"Hmm," he said, a grin spreading across his gaunt face. "_'A lone voice of truth . . . perceived as unbalanced, yet never wavered in his story . . . forced to bear ridicule and slander . . .' _Harry, you seem to be a new person. I wouldn't be able to tell they were talking about the same person from five days ago!" Everyone smiled. "'You-Know-Who's Last Attempt to Take Over, pages two to four, What the Ministry Should Have Told Us, page five, Why Nobody Listened to Albus Dumbledore, pages six to eight, Exclusive Interview with Harry Potter, page nine . . .' That would be from the Quibbler, would it?"

Harry took the article, scanned it, and then said, "Yeah. I suppose Luna's Dad sold it to them." 

Mrs. Weasley placed a bowl of bacon, eggs, and a roll in front of each. Harry dug into his food while Sirius began nibble, holding his stomach. Harry understood that eating probably wasn't very easy because of Bellatrix's curse and the internal damage it must have done. The doorbell rang and Mrs. Black began to scream. Sirius made to get up but seemed to realize that he couldn't. Lupin rose instead. 

After a moment, the screaming stopped and Harry could hear speaking up above. Harry had begun to eat again when the door cracked open cautiously. The slow creaking of the hundred-year-old door hinges caused everyone to turn. Percy Weasley's head appeared in the doorway. 

"Erm . . ." he was looking at his mother, who had turned and frozen. He gazed slowly at his brothers and little sister, but kept his eyes averted from Harry. "I ... I'm ... Dumbledore said ... Dumbledore—he was right and ... I'm sorry."

There was silence. Harry didn't move. He simply gazed at Percy, unable to process his apology. Sirius didn't move either. And then Ginny stepped forward, opening her arms wide. 

"Come on in, Percy!" 

_THE END! ___

****

**Author's Notes:**** I really enjoyed writing this fan fiction. Mostly because I was glad to have Sirius live in it. But also, I got to practice my writing skills by seeing and typing JKR's writing and finding what I like and *looks around shiftily* … don't like about it so I can include what I like and execute what I don't.**

**Thank you very much for reading. Please REVIEW! (it's the end of the story, you've gotta review now!) I've had wonderful, long reviews that really tell me a lot. I don't mind critic either. **

**I have a group called the If Only Universe: are few people in the group and no posts so far. So, please join. I'll post when a new chapter of the sequel (If Only for Now) and if you join now, you can read about it and everything. I'm really hoping the sequel turns out as good as this one did. See you then, or hopefully in the group. **


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